


Of Mice and Monsters

by Deviation



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk, POV Second Person, Pacifist Route, Suicidal Thoughts, implications of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deviation/pseuds/Deviation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you were young, you ripped the wings off of a butterfly and thought, "This is me". </p><p>That had been your choice. It has always been your choice. </p><p>A story about Frisk, and the choices they make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Stay or To Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to kath-ren on Tumblr for editing my work! You're the best! All of you should go check out her blog!

When you were young, you ripped off the wings of a butterfly. You still remember the way it tumbled uselessly along the ground, desperately trying to make flight and to get away. You didn’t understand then. You didn’t understand anything then. You’re not sure if you understand anything now, either.

But you’re trying so hard.

When you first awoke in the underground, you were alone. That’s not unusual for you. The flowers are yellow and softer than any flower should be. The way they’re planted, in a small square directly under the hole, makes you think it’s someone’s garden. The stone path to the intricately carved door suggests the same. Then you meet them. Flowey the Flower. That voice, that tone, the way they smile just a little too wide— it all reminds you of another who had a voice that could almost, but not quite, be called gentle. You don’t trust it, but you want to. So you do as it says. The pain is not unexpected, but still disappointing, though it’s the words that hurt more than the pellets flinging themselves at your soul.

“Here it’s KILL or BE KILLED,” it laughs, as if this is something obvious. And you think. This is it. The fall didn’t kill me, but this flower will. You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep from laughing at the hilarity of the situation. The red heart before you, your Soul, quivers as though sensing your feelings, which, it being your soul and all, it probably does.

And then, you’re not dying. You are walking alongside a tall goat person who introduces herself as Toriel with a gentle voice and an even more gentle- paw? hand?- holding yours. You blink, when did this happen? You talk down a dummy, you are guided through a puzzle, gentle hand never letting go of yours. She does leave you eventually, but she leaves you with a way to contact her. She’s never far away. You meet new creatures that try to FIGHT you, and each time you show them MERCY. You wonder why anyone was ever afraid of monsters when they’re all so gentle and easy to talk to. They always smile before they leave. You think FIGHT might just be the way monster say ‘Hello’ down here, like how your teacher taught you that Spanish people say ‘Hola’ instead of ‘Hello’. Their attacks don’t really hurt after all, and they always seem sorry when they do hurt. It’s so strange, but it’s fun too.

You come across a piece of cheese on a table, and a mouse hole nearby. You can hear little scurrying sounds. Knowing one day the mouse will be brave enough to leave its hole and get the cheese…It fills you with determination.

You meet more monsters, and a ghost who shows you a funny hat. You buy a donut from some spiders. It’s nice. It’s fun. It’s more fun than you’ve had in a long time.

(You find a faded pink ribbon with speckles of dark brown on it. You recognize the stains. You want to leave it where it is, to not touch it, but something within you says take it with you. So you tie it in your hair and think about where the old legends might have come from.)

You find Toriel again and are brought to a house. Your scrapes and bruises are bandaged. You’re given water and a blanket. When? When did this happen? This person, this Toriel, when did she come to care for you so much? You begin to sniffle quietly to yourself, the stress of the day settling over your shoulder like a mantle. Toriel sits beside you and places her hand on your shoulder, making cooing noises. You flinch away and towards her hands simultaneously, your body not knowing how to react to the comfort. That only makes the tears come faster, and soon you’re wrapped up in warm arms, gently rocking back and forth. Your body twitches violently, but when she moves to pull away, you only pull yourself closer to her.

It takes a while, you’re not sure how long, but you calm down slowly falling asleep against the warm goat woman. You awake later in a bed. It’s dark, and there’s a plate with pie on it. The room is slightly dusty, like it has not been used in a long time, but the blankets are warm, and there’s toys, and it’s obviously a well-loved room. You wonder if Toriel has any children that are all grown up now. You think they must be amazing to have such a good mother.

You want to stay. You think you want to stay more than you’ve ever wanted anything before in your life but, like with the ribbon, you feel like you need to go. You tell Toriel it’s because you want to go home.

She blocks the way.

It’s not like fighting the other monsters. Where their attacks were barely tickles and baby pinches, these ones burn. She acts aloof and looks at you like you aren’t there. You feel resigned; this was only to be expected, after all. She murmurs as if to herself, as tho talking to someone else, “Stop looking at me that way!” and that, too, is familiar. But her attacks no longer burn. They go out of their way to avoid you now. You push your soul towards the flames to test it, and her eyes flash as they are pushed away, like a barrier surrounds your soul.

She asks that you don’t come back. This, too, is familiar.

Leaving the ruins is quiet. There are no other monsters, just long empty hallways. Your lip quivers and your vision blurs, but the tears do not fall. Your new ribbon flutters against your neck and it feels like Toriel’s fur when she held you.

Flowey comes back. It tries to tell you to kill, tries to convince you that these monsters aren’t worth sparing. It laughs in utter joy at the thought of you killing and that, more than anything else, solidifies the thought that you will not kill. Not ever. Even if you meet a monster who really does want to hurt you. The thought of bringing joy to something with such a cruel laugh…You’d never do it.

You open the door and the world goes white.

 

 

“Guys like us got nothing to look ahead to”

– Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck


	2. To Promise or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day? Scandalous!
> 
> Special thanks to kath-ren on Tumblr for editing my work! You're the best! All of you should go check out her blog!

When the voice tells you to turn around, you do it. You feel cold, but not because of the snow. Your heart is pounding. Your hands are clammy. You’d do anything when spoken to in that tone of voice. You’re not scared, at least you don’t think you are. You’re just…prepared. (For what? For anything. Always.) The voice commands you to shake their hand, and on autopilot, you do so. Your hand is shaking.

The relief you feel when the whoopee cushion goes off is enough to make you laugh, much harder than is probably necessary for such a silly prank. The skeleton seems to appreciate it, though. The skeleton introduces himself as Sans and tells you he’s supposed to be on the watch for humans. That’s you, you realize. You’re human. They’re on the lookout for you? But why? Why is his brother, this Papyrus, looking for you, too?

In a slight daze, you walk through the bars and behind the conveniently shaped lamp that’s…well, very conveniently shaped. You think it might be best to stay quiet. Every time Sans mentions your hiding place you get more and more nervous, not daring to make a sound, lest you draw the attention of an apparent “Human Hunting Fanatic”.

If you weren’t so nervous, the conversation you’re overhearing would be hilarious. As it is, you feel like you’re going to be sick.  Your stomach rolls. You might actually be sick. But you simultaneously want to laugh at the bone puns. Your hands are clasped over your mouth to hold both your stomach’s contents and your laughter in, tears straining a bit at the corner of your eyes from the effort.

“You okay, kid? You look like you’re gonna blow chunks,” Sans says as you emerge.

Your hands are still clasped over your mouth, the urge to laugh gone but the urge to vomit growing now that the immediate danger has passed. You narrow your eyes at Sans, trying to communicate without words that teasing you like that wasn’t funny.

“What you gotta bone to pick with me?” he replies to your glaring.

Ultimately it’s too much. The slightly horrified, grossed-out look San’s wears gives you a small sense of vindictive pleasure. Serves that jerk right. He awkwardly pats your back as you stuff some snow into your mouth to get rid of the taste.

“Listen, kid. I have a favor to ask of you. My brother’s been kinda down lately; he’s never seen a human before and- hey what’s that look for?”

“That look” being the utterly horrified expression your face has taken. Something seems to click in San’s mind as he looks at you.

“Aw kid, I didn’t mean to scare ya- my brother, he’s a human hunting fanatic yeah but he’s harmless! Wouldn’t ever hurt anyone even if he tried. Swear on my bones.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, and the skeleton appears to sweat (Do skeletons sweat? Well. Maybe monster skeletons do.) Deciding this is a matter of the utmost importance, you hold out your pinky.

“That’s a pretty big promise to make, kiddo,” Sans says, eye sockets staring at your outreached finger. You wiggle it a little bit, to show that you’re serious. He sighs and grasps your pinky with his, shaking it once decidedly.

“To sweeten the deal I’ll even keep my eye socket on you kid, just in case something goes wrong, deal?”

You nod, smile returning to your face. Pinky promises are serious business, and it seems to hold true even in the Underground. And you trust Sans. He feels like Toriel, almost. Good in a way that hurts a little bit in your chest. You begin to walk your separate ways, feeling more confident than you had since leaving the ruins. In your excitement, you call Toriel to tell her about the skeleton brother you’d met, to tell her about the pretty trees and snow and the bad puns you’d just heard.

But no one answered.

Oh. That’s right. She said don’t come back. You guess that means don’t call either. You’re colder now than you were before and your cheeks are a little wet. Your nose begins to run and you wipe it with your sleeve, sniffing loudly. That seems the sort of thing Toriel would scold you for if she saw. You stop by a box on the side of the path and kneel down in the snow, holding your knees to your chest.

Your cries are silent and don’t make a sound except the occasional sniff. It’s better that way, to cry without being heard. Much easier. Much less messy. Much less disappointment when no one comes. When the tears dry up, you stand to your feet, knees shaking a little bit. You wipe your sleeve across your face one last time, then wipe your sleeve against your pants. You pat your cheeks lightly to bring warmth back into them and still your trembling lips. You sniff until you can breathe normally, and once you can breathe normally, you take a few deep breaths to loosen your tight chest. All part of the routine.

You walk on, filled with determination.

 

 

“Guys like us, that work on ranches, are the loneliest guys in the world. They got no family. They don’t belong no place” 

-Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck

 

 


	3. To Befriend or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to kath-ren on Tumblr for editing my work! You're the best! All of you should go check out her blog!

Staring at Papyrus’s back, you feel as though you have a choice to make and that this choice is Very Important. He seems so sad and lonely; you get the feeling that, despite his happy instance that he’s the Great Papyrus and that he has plenty of friends, the truth is more likely that he doesn’t have very many at all. But Papyrus was more than happy to capture you before, even though it seems he’s had a change of heart. What if he changes his mind again and decides you’re not worth keeping as a friend? That the Royal Guard is a better option than friendship with someone like you? Do you have anything to offer in your friendship that would be better than the Royal Guard that Papyrus has dreamed of for so long?

Part of you, the part of you that told you not to climb Mt. Ebbot, the part of you that goes cold every time you think of home, tells you that you’re worth friendship, that you’re not something to be replaced with, and that your life is worth more than the value you’re assigning it. That part of you is easily trumped out by the louder, more insidious parts of you. You think to yourself, walk away now. He’s letting you go; you can run away and find your way out of here and go back to the devil you know. You start to do this, footsteps crunching in the snow as you walk towards Papyrus with all intents to pass him and leave him behind you on your way out of here.

But then, a slight sniffle. Shaking of the shoulders. Someone trying to be quiet with their tears. You recognize the sound of someone trying to hide their sorrow well. It makes you stop for a second before pushing forward until you’re right behind Papyrus, where you stop again. You hesitate. You should pass him now. It would be better for you in the long run, not to be friends with anyone who might turn you in to the Royal Guard (for whatever reason they want you).

But he looks so lonely trying not to cry too loudly. You wonder why he’s trying to hide it. Is it because of you? Does he not want you to see? Or is it because he grew used to hiding his tears from his brother that he doesn’t know how to cry any other way? That thought make you frown at Papyrus’s back. Sans loves Papyrus. It’s really easy to see. Why would you hide your tears from someone who loves you? TV shows you’ve watched say that it’s better to cry with someone who loves you than alone. Those same TV shows, however also show that sometimes you hide your tears from those who love you to protect them. You wonder if Papyrus is trying to protect Sans the same way Sans seems to protect Papyrus.

You reach out with your hand, hovering mid-air for a moment before tugging softly at Papyrus’s cape. He sniffles loudly before responding, “What is it, Human?”

You tug again at his cape, more insistently this time, a little frown on your face.

“AH! I am not crying, human. I just have snow in my eyes! For I, The Great Papyrus, never cry!!”

You only tug more insistently on his cape, his insistence that he’s fine filling you with determination. This time, he turns to you, rubbing frantically at his eyes and a big grin on his face. You recognize the look on his face because it’s one you’ve worn, as well. It makes you frown, which seems to make Papyrus hesitate before dropping the smile into a more neutral expression, staring at you for a moment before looking to the side, watching a cube of ice float down the river and away.

Before you can think to hard about what you’re doing, you grab Papyrus’s hand in one of your own, the bones awkwardly covered by red boxing gloves. You try to think of a way to get across what you mean, carefully going through each option and each possible word you could say and every possible response he could have to your words. Words, you learned early on, have power. And the wrong words can get someone hurt. The silence stretches on for a long moment, Papyrus awkwardly shifting and obviously not knowing what to do with his hand held like this. You huff sharply through your nose, shaking your head to banish the worries plaguing it.

“Friends,” you state, giving no room for argument, bringing up your other hand to hold his one and squeezing tightly, meeting his eye sockets as best you can. He seems taken aback, but only for a moment before a wide smile takes over his face once more.

“R-really human? You want to be friends? NYE-HE-HE Well then! I guess I can make an allowance for you! Who knew that to make friends I just had to make them do puzzles and then fight them? Being friends will make our date go so much easier, too!”

You giggle at his enthusiasm, and he goes on to explain why he needed to capture a human. To help open this Barrier and to free the monsters? That doesn’t sound so bad. Then you can all go to the surface together! And the King of all monsters sounds a little intimidating, but if he’s really a big, fuzzy push-over, as Papyrus described him, then it shouldn’t be hard to convince him to let you go home.

You wave goodbye to Papyrus as he heads back into Snowdin. You think you see Sans from the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look, no one is there. You stand in the snow for a while, enjoying the warm feeling in your chest when a sudden thought causes you to frown slightly.

Our ‘date’…?

 

 

"A guy needs somebody to be near him… A guy goes nuts if he ain't got nobody."

-Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck

 

 


	4. To Save or To Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to kath-ren on Tumblr for editing my work! You're the best! All of you should go check out her blog!

FIGHTs aren’t really saying ‘Hello,’ like you thought. Undyne proved that much to you. Where Toriel and Papyrus and all the other monsters didn’t really want to hurt you…

Undyne wants you dead. You can feel the difference in the attacks. The first time you got hit by one you were sure you were going to hurl your guts up. Your stomach felt as if someone dumped rocks in it, then shook it really hard. Your blood felt like tar. You were so sure you were going to die. But you didn’t. You got away and got to experience the beauty of Waterfall because of it, the glowing stones that almost look like stars, the strange passing conversation between strangers you overhear from the echo flowers…

You learn a lot about the Underground in Waterfall. You learn about the human and monster war, you learn about the hopes and dreams of the monsters to leave this place. You learn why they need your soul. The seventh human soul, to be stripped from your body and used to make the Monster King into a God. And Undyne is more than willing to kill you for your soul.

You are terrified.

And now Monster Kid, the little dinosaur with no arms— he’s holding onto the ledge by his teeth. But Undyne is right there, and this is your chance to escape. But Monster Kid is your friend. But you don’t want to die anymore. But there’s no time to think, so you run forward, towards danger, towards Undyne, who wants you dead so she can free her people, and pull up Monster Kid with all your strength.

Undyne approaches. You’re sure you’re about to die, painfully. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, trying to avoid the inevitable when a stuttering voice calls out.

“I-If you want to get to my friend you’ll have to go through me!”

Your eyes snap open as you stare at Monster Kid’s back. He’s shaking, and you are, too. You're not convinced that Undyne won’t just run both of you through with her spear. There’s a long tense pause hanging in the air that is thick enough to cut. An utter stalemate broken only when Undyne takes a step back and then another. Another and another until she’s out of sight. Your shaking legs give out on you, and you collapse to your knees, hands clenching at the dirt on either side of you and breathing heavily. You hear a twin thump and see that Monster Kid followed you down, shaking just as badly as you.

“Looks like us being enemies was never gonna happen huh?” Monster Kid exhales shakily, a wry grin on his face. You return the smile shakily, heart still pounding wildly in your chest, “My name is Buttercrunch by the way. We never shared names before now.”

Shakily, you respond with your own name.

“Frisk, huh? That’s a weird name.” You try to convey with your eyes that Buttercrunch isn’t much better and is in fact, arguably, more weird than Frisk. It goes over his head, and it's too much effort to try to find the right words to convey the message. Instead, you flop onto your back and sigh loudly. Buttercrunch does the same, and the two of you stare at the ceiling. It’s weird to think of it that way, as the ceiling and not the sky, even though it’s true.

You start to wonder about your place here. Your soul and Undyne’s words. The Monsters and the Barrier. King Asgore and Gods and generations of pain and confinement. A conversation overheard between echo flowers, two monsters with the same wish. You close your eyes. It’s a lot to take in. You’re just a kid, why do you need to think about such heavy things? In what world is this fair?

It’s not. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. But you know that life’s never fair. You miss Toriel keenly. You wish you had never left the Ruins. You wish you had never woken up from your fall.

“I better get going,” Buttercrunch eventually murmurs, sitting up, “My parents are probably worried about me, and I bet yours are too!”  

You resist the urge to shake your head ‘no,’ but can’t find the right words to say. You shrug instead. It’s easier.

“W-well be careful out there! Undyne, she’s- she’s really tough and I won’t be there to protect you next time! So you gotta be careful!”

You nod, standing up. You want to give Buttercrunch a hug but don’t know how to initiate such a thing. Buttercrunch seems to read your mind, however, and steps towards you, lightly headbutting your forehead.

“Come visit me in Waterfall again,” he says, “and be careful!”

With that, Buttercrunch turns and heads back towards Waterfall, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. For a long moment, you just stare after Buttercrunch, watching him leave. You take a deep breath in through your nose and out your mouth. You straighten your spine. Your friendship with Buttercrunch has filled you with determination.

You march on.

 

 

“Well I have never seen one guy take so much trouble for another guy.”

-Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck

 

 


	5. To Befriend or Not Take 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to kath-ren on Tumblr for editing my work! You're the best! All of you should go check out her blog!

You stand in front of the door to Undyne’s house, Papyrus right behind you. You’re trembling. Papyrus brings his hand down on your shoulder in a comforting manner, but you flinch at the strangeness of the touch. You settle yourself, and the hand becomes a grounding weight on your shoulder. You trust Papyrus - if he says there’s hope for friendship with Undyne then there’s hope.

A small part of you whispers insidiously that being friends with the Royal Guard might keep you safe, yes, but killing her is the only way to guarantee it. You shake your head at the thought. That’s not why you’re here. You’re here for Papyrus because he’s your friend, and he just wants his friends to get along. Papyrus would never bring you here if he thought there was no hope for friendship.

Why, that insidious part of you whispers, why is her friendship so important to you? Why are any of their friendships important to you? They’re not even human. And they keep attacking you, trying to kill you. What the point of trying to befriend them when all they want is to hurt you?

No, you think, no it’s not like that. It’s not.

From the corner of your eye you see the flicker of a child who looks almost like you. They’re grinning. But when you turn to look them in the eye they’re gone. You frown deeply, doubt growing in your mind like vines over a crumbling wall.

“Are you ready, Frisk?” asks Papyrus, perhaps sensing your sudden change of mood, “Do not worry! Just give Undyne this.” He pulls out a bone with a red ribbon wrapped around it. “She loves these!”

With that, he knocks on the door and converses with Undyne. The look on her face when she sees you, the utter disgust— it’s not unfamiliar, to say the least. She invites you both inside. Papyrus give her the bone, which Undyne puts in a drawer full of bones. Then Papyrus… jumps out the window… For a moment, both you and Undyne just stare at the broken glass with bemusement. It doesn’t last long, however, as she soon starts barraging you with questions. Are you here to humiliate her? No, you shake your head. Do you think that you two are going to be friends? You hesitate for a moment before nodding your head.

“Really? How delightful!! I accept! Let’s all frolick in the fields of friendship! Not! Why would I ever be friends with you?”

Your heart is in your throat, and you swallow a couple of times as she goes on, calling you the enemy of everyone’s hope and dreams. She declares that she will never be your friend. Part of you is resigned, you knew this was hopeless, even if Papyrus is hopeful the two of you can work things out. This, this beratement of you and your character, it brings you back to before Mt. Ebbot. To your parents. And suddenly you’re angry. Your little hands tighten into fists, and you begin to shake a little. Ever since you fell down here everyone you’ve met has tried to kill you. You’ve tried so hard to be good, to not hurt anyone, because you never want to hurt anyone, even when they’re hurting you. You can’t describe what your feeling as anything more than an upwelling of churning disturbance within you. You’re so tired of extending an open palm, only for it to be slapped away. You’re tired of people hurting you. You’re tired of being hurt, of being called worthless and dumb and so many awful things. Why bother trying anymore? Why bother at all?

The flickering child from before is back. Their grin is made of knives.

The atmosphere is tense. The warrior Undyne senses the change in emotion in you before you recognize it yourself. Your hands feel grainy, like there’s dust covering them. Before anything can happen, and you’re not sure what that ‘anything’ is really, Papyrus returns to the window, challenging Undyne from outside her house to be friends with you.

The events that follow are so surreal that, later, you won’t be sure if you’re remember them properly. But it does end with Undyne’s house burning down due to intense pasta making. You watch the house burn down next to Undyne. You think about what you learned from her, about Papyrus and about the King. You look up at the strange fish monster with the gruff outside and a big heart. Then back at the burning house. As you stare, hypnotized by the fire, you reach up and take her hand. This is what friends do, right? Comfort each other when their houses burn down? You don’t really know. Friendship is pretty new to you. You can feel Undyne’s stare at the side of your head, but you don’t look back. She squeezes your hand in hers, and you feel comforted. You frown a little. Aren’t you supposed to be comforting her? Isn’t that how it works?

There’s silence for a long moment, and Undyne brushes your fingers with her thumb. There’s a long pause before she softly asks, “How old are you kid?”

You look back up at her. She’s staring at your hand, so you look at your hand, too. There’s a few scrapes on your hands from tripping and falling and defending yourself against attacks. It’s a lot smaller than Undyne’s hand. You mumble your answer back, a little embarrassed but unsure as to why. Undyne seems to wince a little at the number, but she squeezes your hand tighter. It feels nice, not as nice as Toriel’s hand, but nice.

“Come on kid,” she gruffs out, “Let’s head over to Papyrus’s place. We can probably grab some grub from Grillby’s.”

You walk hand in hand away from the burning house. You look back once, and only once. The strange smiling child is there, face cast in shadow from the fire behind them, but as soon as you blink, they’re gone.   

  
  
"Come on in and set a while… Long as you won't get out and leave me alone, you might as well set down."

-Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck


	6. To Keep Secret or to Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to kath-ren on tumblr for editing my work, you're the best!

The four of  you are eating at Grillby’s when you see the strange child again. Undyne is supplexing Greater Dog while Papyrus cheers and Sans cracks a dog pun. It’s a happy moment, which makes the child’s appearance, who you’ve come to associate with distress, strange.

They don’t do anything. They just stand there, watching. Well, you assume they’re watching— their eyes are shadowed by their thick bangs, so it’s hard to tell. But you’re pretty sure they’re watching. They have an odd expression on their face, something between a grimace and a grin.

You find yourself staring at the child, who unlike before, doesn’t fade away. Only becomes more and more solid. You feel distant from your body— like your outline has been erased. You want to look away. but you feel frozen. Sounds are far away, and it takes great effort to remember to breathe. Each inhale is a battle against the knot in your chest. The child’s expression has changed, you notice.  They’re smiling. It looks like the painted smile of a porcelain doll, like the one you once longed for from the window of a store; still, unnatural. Dangerous. They tilt their head to the side and put a finger to their smiling lips.

Then, a hand is on your shoulder. You flinch away before you can stop yourself, blinking rapidly and breathing as though you’d come up from drowning— coughing and gagging, doubled over. You feel a warm presence near by, close but not touching you, and the feeling of someone watching over you is more calming than you’d ever thought it could be.

“You okay there, Kiddo?” Sans asks, his eye socket glowing blue as he scans the restaurant.

Papyrus and Undyne, you notice, are doing the same, scanning the area in search of danger. It makes you feel warm, chasing away the icy grip that had overtaken your heart. You nod, breathing slowly in through your nose and out through your mouth, counting off the things you can see and feel and hear and touch and smell, grounding yourself into the here and now. It’s an old technique you’d learned from your school counselor the first time you’d had a panic attack in class. They had called your parents then. That hadn’t been a good time.

“Sorry,” you mumble on instinct, shame flooding your cheeks as you avert your eyes to the floor. You shy away from the presence hovering over you. Sans kneels down to the floor to meet your eyes.

“None of that, Kiddo. Happens to the best of us,” he replies, his voice softer than you think you’ve ever heard it.

“Truly young human,” Papyrus exclaims “Why even I, The Great Papyrus, sometimes get scared!”

He strikes a pose then, which causes your lips to twitch upwards, which only seems to make him pose harder.

“What happened?” gruffs Undynes, her fists clenched tight as she scowls around the establishment. The establishment seems to inch away from her as one.

You glance towards the area the strange child had been. Sans, the closest to you, follows your gaze, but nothing is there. Hesitantly, you shake your head no, but your gaze is stuck where the child had been. You can feel yourself growing distant from your body again, your heartbeat and breathing beginning to speed up.

“You sure, Kiddo?” Sans asks from far away.

You hesitate. You don’t know how to explain it. Them. Why they scare you. Instead, you force your gaze away from the spot and reach towards Sans, grabbing his coat in your fists and burying yourself into his chest. At first, he stiffens, and you do, too, going unnaturally stiff and unsure how to respond now. His hand hovers over you uncertainly. Then, it’s like something clicks into place, and he relaxes with a sigh, his arms holding you close in a hug. You’re trembling, you realize. You had acted on instinct and this, this comfort... It’s not a bad feeling, just a new one. You close your eyes. Your trembling dies down, leaving behind only the occasional, involuntary twitch.

“Let’s get the kid outta here,” murmurs Undyne.

Suddenly, you’re scooped up. The sudden motion causes you to let out a squeak. Then you find yourself on Sans’s hip and your arms are wrapped around his neck in a death grip. You burry your face in his shoulder.

“Well this brings back memories, eh Pap?”

“I am sure I have No Idea what you are talking about.”

“Tell us about it, shorty!”

“No, do not tell us about it!”

“Well, when Pap here was just a baby bones…”

  
Their voices are soothing. With your head still buried in Sans’s shoulder, you listen silently until you drift off to sleep.

 

 

“We got somebody to talk to that gives a damn about us.”

-Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck


	7. To Stay or To Leave Take 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Kath-ren of tumblr for editing my work! Go check her out!

You’re standing in a dark room in the middle of a small circle of light. It’s just you. It is silent. You see nothing, smell nothing, feel nothing. You are encased in the nothing. It is calm here. This is your safe place, the place you go when hands that are supposed to be gentle turn rough. You haven’t been here since entering the Underground. It’s strange to be here now, despite the safety of it. You can’t quite remember what made you come here this time.

Before you can ponder too long another circle of light appears and from a distance you can hear small footsteps echoing their way around the endless dark- tap-tap-tap-tap. Coming closer and closer to you. You feel nothing but calm. This is a meeting that was always meant to happen. A foot steps into the light, followed closely by the body of its owner. A small child with dark skin and hair, bangs long, head tilted down, eyes cast in shadow. They are wearing a striped shirt, like yours, but they are taller than you, older by maybe a year or two. They stand in the center of their light, like you. They are quiet, like you; they say nothing.

You feel a well of sympathy pool within you. Like draws to like. You can feel the deep anger they feel, the resentment, the hatred. But most importantly you can feel the fear. You recognize these feelings— don’t you feel these very things all the time? Don’t you feel anger, resentment, hatred, and yes, even fear? You feel them deeply, so much so that it burns your insides, melts your bones, and turns into ash on your tongue until you are swallowed up by it. You know you have. But unlike you, you can sense that the other child hasn’t let go. They have so much negative energy flowing through them that they can’t be stopped. They don’t want to stop. This is what hatred does to you, when you can’t let go. There’s no need to forgive— you could no more ask the child before you to forgive than you could forgive your own parents. But hatred, hatred is poison, hatred is a double bladed knife. You can wield it for a time, yes. You can defend yourself for a while, yes. In the end, however, you’re only hurting yourself with each slash of the blade, each cut of the knife. There is nothing wrong with hatred ,you think to yourself. You’re ashamed of hatred. But you don’t let it consume you, either. Or else you become your parents.

You think that is the difference between the two of you— while you’ve done everything you could to never become them, the child instead used hatred like a shield to defend themself from everyone. And that hatred was so strong that they lingered here, in the Underground. They are filled with determination. For what, exactly? You don’t know. But now they are here with you. And you are in danger, you know, of allowing this child’s hatred to consume you the way it consumed them.

You stare at the child before you, and they stare back. It’s a stalemate that you don’t know how to win, or if you’re even supposed to win. You think there’s something you should do here. Or something they should do. You don’t feel threatened, strangely. You think the child is as curious about you as you are of them. You wonder what they were like, once upon a time. Before they came to reside here, in your safe place.

Their fingers twitch at their side. Their smile turns from a blank, fixed curve to something sharp and wicked. The curious feeling you’d sensed before is replace by something hostile. Their fingers twitch again, and they’re rushing towards you, a knife raised in the air.

You freeze. The knife is raised between the two of you. They are coming at you with a speed like you’ve never seen— !

You startle awake with a gasp, bolting upwards, your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment you are terrified— where are you? Where are your parents? Are they coming for you? But after a few deep breaths, you steady yourself. Your hand is clenched tightly over your heart, bunching up the sweater you’re wearing. Your face is wet, but you aren’t scared. Just sad. You don’t know why you’re sad, but the child, the one in your safe place… Right before they struck at you, you made eye contact, and you could see it. Something in their eyes. You don’t know what, exactly. Maybe pain, maybe sorrow, maybe fear. Maybe it was even just hatred. But it was the first time that you had seen them without the doll-like smile on their face, and you think that might mean something.

You push the covers down. You’re in Papyrus’s race car bed. You step softly through the debris on the floor and make your way to the hallway. You peak through the door and quietly— Quietly!  — step outside into the hallway and down the stairs. You see the three of them, Papyrus, Undyne, and Sans, on the couch, sleeping with the TV on and tuned to a channel featuring a strange robot. The sight of them, sleeping on the couch, so calm and quiet and soft…

It fills you with determination.

With a grace beyond your years, you head back upstairs without a sound and grab the blanket from Papyrus’s bed before practically floating back down stairs and placing the blanket over the three sleeping monsters. You take one last look and nod once in affirmation. Just as your hand is about to touch the doorknob a voice calls out to you—

“Be careful out there, Kiddo.”

For a moment, you feel that you can almost see your choices laid out before you— stay here in Snowdin with these three monsters who’ve somehow adopted you as one of them, or continue on, possibly never seeing any of them again. Your gaze is fixed on the doorknob. It’s blurry. Before you can change your mind and without looking back, you nod once more, a soft noise of affirmation creaking it’s way out your throat.

You open the door and the world goes white.

 

 

“Every damn one of ’em’s got a little piece of land in his head. An’ never a God damn one of ’em ever gets it. Just like heaven. Ever’body wants a little piece of lan’. I read plenty of books out here. Nobody never gets to heaven, and nobody gets no land”

-Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck

 

 

 

 


	8. To Trust or To Distrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out kath-ren on tumblr! They're amazing!

You don’t stop moving until you reach Waterfall. You had found a small hidden cave earlier, when you were running from Undyne (how long ago was that? It feels so long ago now). It was there that you had found an old tutu, with which you had immediately fallen in love and slipped on over your shorts. You had looked so silly, but it had been a small moment of happiness when you had been so scared.

Now you’ve returned. That little bit of happiness seems so far away now. You slump against the far wall, sliding down it slowly as you lose strength in your knees. You’re sitting on the ground, forehead pressed to your knees, rocking yourself back and forth. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you try to slow your breathing, tears escaping from between your lids.

You’re not sure how long you sit there, rocking back and forth, until your mind quiets enough for you to think. And when you can think, you nearly throw yourself back into a panic about what you don’t want to be thinking about. You try thinking about puppies or kittens instead, but it doesn’t work very well.

Why did you leave Snowdin, you think to yourself. Why did you leave the Ruins? What’s there to be gain from pushing forward? You don’t know the answers to any of these questions and that just makes your sobs come out a little harsher. Why are you fighting so hard to go back when there’s nothing to go back to? Why? Why? Why?

The question repeats in your head over and over, your sobs growing louder— still quiet by anyone else’s standards, but bellows from you. Snot drizzles out your nose and clogs it up simultaneously. Your breathing grows harsher. You miss all of them so, so much. You’re wet and cold and alone. You feel like nothing. You wish you were in you bed at Toriel’s home in the Ruins, warm and safe, with pie on a plate made with so much love nearby.

Just as the pain get to be a little too sharp, your cries a little too loud, and your snot just a little too gross, you hear humming. Immediately, the sound of your cries ceases for fear of being overheard. Your breathing is quiet and shallow, but your heart is pounding. Your entire body is wound tight, trembling from the effort of not making any sudden sounds or movements. Cautiously, you peek up from where your head is buried in your knees.

It’s the child. They’re there, squatting a few feet from you, looking at you, with a soft smile on their face.

They’re translucent, you notice. Sometimes they flicker in and out, their smile changing from softness to knives between flickers. At first the flickers are rapid, but eventually they even out, softness coming to stay. The humming itself sounds like an echo from far away. As you watch the child before you and listen to them hum, you can feel your heart rate slowing down. You wipe at your face, drying tears and snot on your sleeve before glancing at them again, checking to see if they are still there. Which they are, to your amazement. Why are they here? Why aren’t they trying to kill you?

Strangely, you don’t feel the same sense of panic you had the last time you saw them. It’s strange, you almost feel watched over, like at Toriel’s place. Like you’re safe here, in this cave with this ghost who tried to kill you.

You wonder what their name is.

You can sense the humming is coming to a close, the little song ending on a soft note. The child looks at you with a soft expression on their face. They stand from their crouched position then, turning on their heal and taking a step away. They immediately fade a little with the step, and with the next step they take, they fade a little more.

You make a noise in the back of your throat, and the child pauses, turning around a little. Their oversized sweater flutters as if a strong breeze passed by, but you feel nothing. You want to ask them who they are, and since they are comforting you now, why they tried to kill you before.

They shake their head with a smile, then they speak. Their voice echoes around the cave, sounding far away.

“Sheesh! You’re such a crybaby, Asriel.”

Then they turn on their heal, take a step, and fade away as though they were never there at all.

 

 

“I got you to look after me, and you got me to look after you”

-Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck

 

 


	9. To Move Foward or Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great big thanks to kath-ren of tumblr for editing all these chapters! Go check her out!

Hotland is hot, and the puzzles within are distracting. Alphys keeps blowing up your new phone with status updates. Something doesn’t seem quite right about the situation, but you ignore it. The puzzles haven’t been dangerous, and the games with Mettaton have almost been fun. It’s been a quiet break from the whirlwind in your head.

It isn’t until you cross paths with Muffet that you begin to worry. Muffet mentions someone paying her to get your soul, someone who can shapeshift? In the middle of battle, you eat a SpiderDonut (which tastes like chocolate and is sticky for reasons you don’t want to analyze) and almost instantly the fight ends, spiders and Muffet’s pet comically freezing in place as Muffect carefully examines the half-eaten SpiderDonut. When Muffet realizes that you are, in fact, a big supporter of spiders everywhere she calls back her fellow spiders and pet. You can’t help but watch a little nervously as they scurry away into the shadows, their many eyes staring back at you. Muffet laughs to herself, mentioning that it must have been a different human in a striped shirt that she was supposed to capture, since a nice one like you couldn’t possibly be the target! She then asks you to tea which, but upon seeing the way that spider webs cling to everything and the way the spiders’ eyes all gleam a little...hungirly, you politely decline. Knowing someone had paid Muffet to kill you, It make you nervous. The serenity that had filled you in Hotland fades away as you walk away from Muffet’s home, your shoes sticking a bit with each step.

And then Mettaton is… singing to you? About Monster King? And you’re part of the play now? Pink flower petals fall from the sky, the song turns dark, as the lyrics begin to describe your death. Then you’re falling. And there are flames. And the colored tile puzzle from before. Before you know it, time’s up. You are very confused about everything that is happening.

When Alphys saves the day yet again, the nagging feeling in the back of your head comes back, but you ignore it. You thank her for all she’s done for you. When she confesses her feelings of self-hatred… you can’t help but connect to her even further. She obviously doesn’t have a lot of friends, or maybe she was picked on, or maybe her parents were mean. No matter the case, something in Alyphs is similar to something inside of you. You walk on, a spring in your step, as you head towards the MTT Hotel. As you pass, you wave at the guards, who are holding hands and eating Nice Cream.

Then you see him again. Sans. You slow down to a stop in front of him. He’s still got that smile on his face, but he looks tired.

“Hey, I heard you’re going to the core. Wanna grab a bite to eat with me first?”

It’s like the first time, in the bar. You feel like a big choice is ahead of you. like the decision on whether to go with Sans or not will have a wider impact than you can see at the moment. You feel like you should be intimidated it, but it’s still Sans, the one who promised to keep an eye socket out for you, who carried you from Grillby’s to his own home. Instead of being intimidated by the choice, you simply nod your head.

“Great, thanks for treating me!” He ambles over to the side of the building, “Over here, I know a shortcut.”

You blink, and then without a warning you're feeling a little woozy. You find yourself sitting in a fancy looking restaurant, one that has candles and everything. You look around, curious about your new environment.

“So, here we are,” Sans begins, “Your journey’s almost over. You must really want to go home.”

Any idle curiosity died at his words. You know it shows on your face, the utter dread you feel, but you can’t help it.

“Or maybe you’re not as excited for it as we all had thought,” he murmurs, sounding a little resigned, like you had just confirmed something he had been thinking for a while. “Listen, Kiddo,” the endearment brings some warmth back to your clammy cheeks, “maybe sometimes it’s better to take what given to you, yeah? Down here, you’ve already got food, drink, friends… Is what you have to do really worth it?”

For a long moment there’s silence. You don’t know what to say. Hadn’t you been questioning nearly this entire time why you’d ever left the Ruins, then later Snowdin? Isn’t this your chance to say, no, it’s not worth it, please, take me back? To forget about ever leaving this place and to forget about the life you were once forced to live. You look up to meet Sans gaze, and he’s waiting patiently for your response.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth, you feel a presence. It’s the child again, you can tell, but you can’t see them anywhere. Instead, you feel your mouth opening of it’s own accord and words spilling out that aren’t your own, “I can’t,” you, but not you, whispers, “I can’t.”

“I see. Well, I’m rootin’ for ya, Kiddo.”

After that, the conversation is a bit of a blur. You still don’t feel in total control of your body, but you also don’t feel not in control. You feel as if you just need to put pressure against the hold on you, and it’ll break. The hold on you is like tissue paper almost, this, weak, easily broken but still present. It was more the surprise of the situation that allowed for the child to speak than anything else. You’re not sure what’s happening, really, and you’re about to beg Sans for help of any kind, when he mentions someone who’s obviously Toriel. Toriel, who loved you. Toriel, who even when she banished you, tried to protect you. Toriel, who may well be the reason you have so many good friends now.

You sniff a little, and the expression on Sans’s face softens momentarily before abruptly hardening again

“Don’t you get it, Kiddo? If I hadn’t made that promise to her… You’d be dead where you stand.”

The abrupt change in tone is what gets to you- from the fun loving Sans you’ve come to know to the deadly silence of someone who would kill you without hesitation, of someone who had killed before. You’re too shocked to say or do anything. You want to be upset, but. Well. It makes sense. Everyone here has been trying to kill you since you came here. It was always stranger that Sans was different in that regard. The new knowledge of Sans’s motivation doesn’t stop the tears from filling your eyes, as tired and worn down as you are. You fight them, not allowing them to fall.

“H-hey, Kiddo, don’t worry. It was just a joke! I mean look, haven’t I done a great job in protecting you? You haven’t died even once!”

Which is true. You haven’t died. Not even once. And Sans did promise, so even if he might not have been your friend otherwise, it doesn’t matter, because he did. You nod then, to show you understand. Sans’s sense of humor may be warped sometimes, but he’s honest at least. That’s worth a lot in your world. You two share a grin with each other, and Sans stands up from the table.

“Listen, Kiddo, take care of yourself. Because someone out there really cares about you. A lot of someones actually.” With that, Sans stepped away, out of sight, and into shadow. Back to one of his shortcuts.

For a long moment you sit there, thinking to yourself. It’s not until the strange pressure comes back that you remember why you’d been so scared before. You freeze up, unsure as to what to do. This other child already showed a willingness to both kill you, and comfort you, and control you. What exactly do they want? The pressure of control settles over you like a numbing blanket. You feel it overtake your lips again, curving them into the gentle smile that you saw in the cave. The only reason you don’t wrench back control from the other child is your own damnable curiosity… and the fact that the control they have over you feels tenuous at best— like butterfly wings, easily broken— instead of something like chains. You get the sense that their presence here is weak.

“Free them,” you, not you, whispers. “Free them all.”

Who are you?

“Chara”

 

 

“A water snake glided smoothly up the pool, twisting its periscope head from side to side; and it swam the length of the pool and came to the legs of a motionless heron that stood in the shadows. A silent head and beak lanced down and plucked it out by the head, and the beak swallowed the little snake while its tail waved frantically.”

-Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck


	10. To Run or To Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, a special thanks to Kath-ren of tumblr for editing!

“Alphys has been playing you for the fool the whole time!”

Those words made the world fall out from under you. Alphys has been playing you for the fool? Alphys has been using you? The dumb calculator goes on, but all you hear is whooshing in your ears. When Mettaton locks the door and Alphys’s voice calls out from the other side, it only confirms what Mettaton has been saying this whole time. Alphys was never really your friend to begin with. She manipulated you, like everyone in your life before now has manipulated you.

The following battle is intense and becomes more intense when Mettaton turns from Calculator to Robo-Rockstar-is his hair made out of metal too or is he wearing a wig? You ask him that and he gasps dramatically like you’d stabbed him. The fight grows only more intense from there: you pose dramatically, you boast proudly, you write an entire essay on the beauty of Mettaton’s legs consisting entirely of the word ‘Legs’. You just want to go already. It’s not until the final phone calls come in that your head begins to clear again. Hearing Napstablook’s voice through the receiver, hearing the love that Mettaton’s fan have for him…It fills you with determination.

When Alphys bursts into the room, you can’t find it in yourself to be mad anymore, especially seeing how upset she is over Mettaton. You still feel betrayed, and sad, but anger is beyond you. You wonder what she would have done if Mettaton had actually died. You decide you don’t want to know. She catches up to you soon after you leave the room. You stop and look at her. She meets your gaze but can only hold it for a fraction of a second before looking away. At first she tries to play off what happened, but you shake your head slowly, a serious look on your face. She sighs.

Her hands fiddle together, interlocking and separating and twisting around one another. “I-I-I-I’m sorry I-I lied to y-you about, about,” she hesitates, her face going pale, her eyes averted, “about Asgore.”

You narrow your eyes.

She continues, eyes still averted, “I-it’s not— you don’t need— You need a monster and a human s-soul. To p-pass through the b-barrier. So to get h-home you’ll have to-have to kill Asgore.”

She turns fully away from you.

“I-I know you don’t have— don’t have any reason to, to believe me but… But it’s the truth… I’m s-sorry.”

She turns on her heel and hurries down the hallway, not staying to see your reaction the truth.

Your reaction is a catatonic one. You freeze, but your breathing remains even. Your eyes remain dry. Your heartbeat, on the other hand, speeds up. Your hands go clammy. It’s a dichotomy between reacting and not; instead of fighting or fleeing you freeze. Eventually, reacting wins out over not-reacting as sink into your knees and shakily move to a crouch. You bury your face in your legs and arms as you try to calm your breathing. Kill? Kill Asgore? Asgore, someone you’ve never met. To go back to a place you don’t want to go to? You promised yourself at the beginning of all of this that you wouldn’t kill anyone, and now it’s looking like you might have no choice in the matter; like you might have to break your promise to Toriel.

Maybe Flowey was right all along.

No! You refuse to believe that! There must be another way. This, all of this, it can’t be for nothing! It just can’t.

As you remain crouching, you sense Chara’s presence nearby. You look up and see their ghostly form. You sniff loudly and wipe at your face. You stare at them, and they at you, for a long moment. Then, they reach forward towards you, tugging at something in your pocket. You blink, and they’re gone. You dig through your pockets to see what it is they were looking for. You find it, a letter. Specifically, the letter Undyne had asked you so long ago to deliver to Hotland, but in the confusion and discomfort, had completely forgotten about. You stare at the letter, then glance at the stairs that would lead to Asgore. To you killing or being killed. The hand not holding the letter crunches into a fist, and your hands begin to shake.

Kill or be killed. Or deliver a letter, and push it back another day.

Well, you never claimed to be brave. You gently slide the letter back into your pocket and head back the way you came. The future can wait a little longer.    

 

“And these shelves were loaded with little articles, soap and talcum powder, razors and those Western magazines ranch men love to read and scoff at and secretly believe.”

Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck

 


	11. To Forgive or To Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a big thanks to Kath-ren of tumblr for the editing! This chapter is rather short but I like where it ends and speaking of end we're fast approaching the end of this story! I hope you all are as excited for it as I am!

You knock on the door and slide the letter under it. You still don’t really want to see Alphys right now, so you turn to leave. Before you can, your own curiosity gets the better of you as you hear her from the other side of the door. 

Of course, your snooping gets the better of you when the door opens and Alphys is there. For a moment, the two of you stare blankly at each other, both too surprised to do or say much of anything. Soon, she’s talking about things that don’t make sense to you. Apparently she thinks you wrote the letter? But before you can correct her, she has disappeared to change into a dress. You’re going on a date with her.    


How is it that you keep accidentally going on these dates? 

She comes out in a pretty red-and-white polkadot dress. It suits her better than the dusty lab coat she always wears. As your ‘date’ goes on, you get the strong feeling you know what the contents of Undyne’s letter were… and what Alphys’s feeling are in return (if the magic-spear polish and water-proof fish scale lotion say anything about it). You can feel your lingering resentment towards Alphys fade away as you continue the date to the Waterfall dump. Seeing Alphys being herself, not trying to save you or force her way into your life...It fills you with determination. You suppose you were never really angry to begin with, disappointed maybe, but not angry. You could understand Alphys. You two are more similar than dissimilar, after all. You’re both scared, but where you have the determination to keep moving forward, Alphys got stuck somewhere along the way. Though you try to ignore it, a part of you feels sorry for her.

When Undyne appears, asking for the letter back, you shake your head no. You don’t have it, and no, you haven’t seen Alphys. As Undyne begins to search for Alphys, you find yourself trying to convince Alphys to tell Undyne the truth.

“They say be yourself, but it’s hard to do that when you don’t really like yourself...I’d rather be whatever makes people like me.”

You give her a stern look and she looks away, fiddling her fingers together. Wasn’t that what got you two in this awkward situation in the first place? Where she can’t meet your eyes for the shame she feels? 

“Eheh… no, you’re right. Everyday I’m scared… Scared of what will happen when people learn the truth on their own… They’ll all get hurt because of me. But how can I tell Undyne the tr-truth? I don’t have your confidence. What if I— what if I fall back to my old lies?” 

Roleplaying is the obvious answer, and you tell her as much. 

It goes about as well as you can expect roleplaying to go between a grown dinosaur in love and a kid. That is to say, it doesn’t go very well. But it is funny. Your roleplay is cut short when, like the anime that Alphys loves so much, Undyne swoops in at just the right moment. 

They talk about gross mushy adult stuff. You stick out your tongue at them and play in the trash. 

  
  


 

“"We travel together," said George coldly.

"Oh, so it's that way."

George was tense and motionless. "Yea, it's that way."”

Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck


	12. To Learn The Truth or Accept The Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The True Lab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, special thanks to Kath-ren of tumblr for editing! You're the best.
> 
> Now some of you may have noticd that there's now a final chapter count on this work, that's because...it's finished! I have it all written down in my notebook, it just needs to be typed up an edited! So updates should come faster! I apologize for taking so long with this chapter; school happened which made things a bit more stressful then usual. But here we are now and thank you to everyone who's stuck with me so far!
> 
> I've also changed the summary, chapter titles, and done some editing of previous chapters so they read a little smoother! Enjoy!

The lab only begins to feel off when you see the note on the ground. Until then, everything had felt normal, or as normal as a world with no sky could ever feel to you. The note though, the note— that’s ominous in its own innocence. Something hiding in the deliberate way it’s placed. Your normally brisk walk slows to a crawl as dread wells up within you. It’s quiet in the lab, you notice. There’s no anime playing in the background. There’s no strange beeping from stranger machines. Everything has been powered down and cleaned off. The dusty workbench is spotless now, the clothes on the floor are hung up are put away, and the floor even looks like it had been swept recently. It looks like your own room, right before you left. And it is this which fills you with a kind of quiet terror as you approach the note on the ground. Something almost like numbness fill you as you lift the note to read but it’s not quite numbness; more like a kind of determination. An older kind, better suited to adults than children but not one that is unfamiliar to you.

Your hands don’t shake like they might have once. You think you’ve grown.

The handwriting is shaky and hard to read. The lettering is blobbing and running in some places, bleeding ink. Your heart clenches as you read on; confusion and worry are warring for their share over you. Your eyes roam across the note over and over. There’s a ringing in your ears, and your hands and feet have both gone numb. Your breathing comes in short, tight gasps, and soon you’re on the ground, knees pulled tightly to your chest and your head in between them. You feel frozen with indescion. Do you find help? Do you press on? Do you wait here and hope for the best? You feel so small and the world so big. Fumbling, you reach for your phone on instinct. Your first call is to Alphys. Maybe you can reach her through the phone? But the call goes straight to voicemail. The next call you make is to Papyrus and Undyne, who you know both care about Alphys, especially Undyne. The call drops. Desperate, you dial Toriel’s number hoping that this time, maybe… But nobody answers. Frustration boils over, and you clench your phone tightly in your hand before tossing it with all you might. It clatters across the tiled floor and slams into the wall. The sound of plastic cracking breaks you out of your spiral; you freeze, almost comically. You unfold yourself, scrambling towards the phone; you pick it up and cradle it towards you. The front casing is cracked, and you exhale with despair. You flip it open— the inner screen is dark, and it won’t turn on. Stupefied, you stare at the lifeless machine for a long time. In your fear and anger, you tossed the phone Toriel had given you; that Alphys had installed texting and a jetpack and little shooter to; the phone that Papyrus had covered with stickers and Undyne had input several cooking recipes on; the one on which Sans had installed a ringtone that let out a fart noise whenever someone texted you. The phone that had become a collaboration between all your friends to try and make life here easier, to try and convince you to stay.

You cradle it to you like it’s something precious, and you gently, gently put it away. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you rise and face the door, hands clenched tight. Another deep breath, to steady your racing heart, and you take a step forward. And another, and another. You open the door and enter what appears to be an elevator. You push the down button firmly.

At first, all is well: with a plan slowly forming in your mind and the cool, ventilated air chilling your sweaty and overheated skin you feel almost at peace. The light flickers. The smoothness of the ride begins to stutter, and your heart follows suit. Then, of course, it plunges. You grasp onto the railing, too terrified to scream. The resulting crash sends you to the floor, scraping your hands and knees against the linoleum. After a few moments, trying to be sure that the elevator is truly steady, you stand, your knees knocking together. You push the door open button harshly several times, desperate to get out. With a whine the doors creak open half way before stopping. Luckily, you are still very small, so you squeeze between the gap and into a new, darkened laboratory space, lit only by emergency lights. You look around before heading down the only hallway you see. You pause when a screen suddenly illuminates in green.

“This is it...time to do what the King has asked me to. I will create the power to free us all. I will unleash the power of the soul.”

Uneasiness fills you as you read the words again. Hesitantly, you move on to the next screen featuring the next log entry, reading more about the barrier and souls. The final log in the hallway describes something new, something called “Determination.” You fist hand into your sweater over your heart. Determination… the power to change fate… You wonder what it could mean. As you continue forward, you hit a fork in the road, split by an elevator which is, of course, locked. Upon trying the door to the right, you discover it, too, is locked, leaving only the hallway to your left. At the end of the hallway is a room with three beds and three sinks. Nothing interesting besides another log on a screen, which you scan briefly before heading to the attached room. A box with a red dash over it and a keyhole in the middle is all you find in this room. On closer inspection you spot a note on the ground— something dropped in the drain? You think of the sinks in the other room and hurry over, turning on and off the first two sinks quickly before reaching the third one. You feel a little silly doing this, until you turn the knob on the third one. Instead of water, a thick, viscous fluid droops out of the faucet, slowly at first, and then all at once. Globs building on itself to form a new, unnatural shape. It smiles at you with too many teeth before drawing your soul forth for an encounter. They screech like static, and their movements are quick and stilted— their attacks are unpredictable.

They continue screeching in static, and something echoes deep within you as they do— words that ring true. You call for help, hoping someone, Alphys maybe, will hear and come for you.

But Nobody Came.

Desperately, you fumble with your broken phone. Hoping maybe you will be able to use it somehow. The lights on the screen light up once more, and the static filled voices rip through the broken receiver, “Come join the fun.”

You shiver and shake your head. The twisting creature before you whines, but allows you to spare it, its body sulking back into the pipe, as though being sucked through a straw. It leaves behind a red key, which you pick up, making a face at the slimy coating. Wiping your hands on your pants, you go to the side room and insert the key into the slot with a small click. You hear the whirr of something powering up. You turn back towards the second elevator and the vending machine and the door that had been locked previously. The red door now open, you enter and falter, feeling as though something is watching you as you make your way through. You pause only to read the entries on the wall. You cringe at one, “one of the bodies opened its eyes” and hurry on, feeling like someone dumped stones into your stomach and then shook it. At the end of the hallway is a room full of beds. One of the beds has a lump that, when you pull back the covers, turns out to be a yellow key. You begin to grow frustrated, you had hoped that maybe it had been Alphys...but there’s no sign of her.

The next room you enter is full of golden flowers in rows of pots, and you’re sharply reminded of Flowey. They’re the same kind of flower. The logs in the room don’t do anything to reassure you that your growing suspicion is wrong. Opposite the rows of flowers, the walls are made of mirrors. You’re uncomfortable with the mirrors and try not to look directly at them. That is, until one of them looks at you. You’re drawn into another encounter with a vaguely birdlike monster— a monster that was once other monsters, you’ve come to learn. The battle itself is disturbing, as the monster projects the image of a being, writhing in pain as it is consumed by butterflies, not even trying to attack you for it’s first turn. You try not to think too hard about it as you mystify, pray to, and pick on the Reaper Bird, cringing slightly as three distinct voices come through, each saying something different, but each obviously grateful to be understood in the first place. You spare the creature, and they slink away into the shadows. The next room contains only a note and the blue key slot, a dead end.

As you walk through what you’ve privately dubbed the True Lab, fighting strange monsters and gathering keys and reading log entries, you think about Alphys. You wonder how she’s doing, how she’s feeling, and if she’s okay. You worry about what she’s going to do. Eventually, only the yellow key remains unused so you head towards a room connected to the room with the strange machine. In this room, you finally find the yellow key slot, as you expected, but also a log entry and a television with some video cassettes. The entry log declares that Asgore should never see these tapes, which makes you nervous. In the back of your mind, you feel Chara’s presence stir as you pop in the first tape. You freeze when Toriel’s voice exits the speakers, speaking to one she refers to as Gorey in the form of Mom Puns. Chara becomes restless when the next tape goes in, a young and unfamiliar voice filling the room. The voice tells Chara to smile and you freeze, could these tapes be…? You ask Chara what this means, but they don’t respond so you insert the next tape instead. Cups of butter versus buttercups…? And a plan? You don’t like the sound of this. Evidently, Chara doesn’t either as they grow more and more agitated. The fourth tape goes in, Chara calls the other child a cry baby and isn’t that familiar? Didn’t Chara call you by another name while calling you a crybaby? Could this be Asriel? And then the child declares that they’ll go get the buttercups.

The final tape goes in, and the child— Asriel? — is begging Chara not to leave, snuffling and bleating softly. It goes quiet for a moment, and you think the tape has ended when they declare that no, they will believe in Chara, that they just need to get six souls and then they can save everyone. You feel yourself grow cold, an image painting itself before you as you try to comprehend what happened to Chara and Asriel and Toriel and Gorey. You close your eyes, focussing on Chara’s presence in your mind. They feel like pure despair. You find yourself shaking under the weight of their emotions.

“Asriel,” they whisper, “Asriel! Asriel! I’m so sorry Asriel!”

You’re not sure how long you stand there, caught in the tidal wave of Chara’s emotions. Eventually, when they stop crying out, you ask them if they’re okay.

“It’s my fault,” Chara whispers back in lieu of an answer, “It’s all my fault.”

You remind them that they were just children, that they thought they were doing the right thing. Chara’s emotions get confusing then. You’re not sure how to interpret them.

“If I had just been a good child, Asriel would still be alive.”

And with that Chara retreats to wherever they go when they’re not talking to you. For a long moment you stand there, shivering in the aftershocks of Chara’s outburst. But nothing ever got done by standing in a dark mysterious room doing nothing, so you calm your shivering body, wipe your sweaty palms on your pant legs and march onward.

Chara, since giving you their name, has always been quiet, barring the occasional snarky comment or piece of advice. But their presence was calming in its consistency and now… Now, you can’t feel Chara at all. It’s disconcerting and worrisome. It takes up all your attention as you walk back to the main hallway where the elevator is. The door is open now and you distractedly make your way through it, taking a side door that’s available when the elevator doesn’t start. You enter a room with large machinery and a switch, which you press, still distracted by Chara’s lack of presence. You don’t notice at first that you’re no longer alone. Not until you hear rasping breathing and a pained groan.

You spin around, and there before you are four Amalgamates, slithering or jerking or pulling themselves towards you with drool dripping out of their gaping maws, their many eyes all focussed on you. You take a step back and then another, but you’re halted when you hit the wall. You can’t take on all four of them at once, especially not if they’re determined to hurt you. You close your eyes…

And then, like a true hero, Alphys comes to your aid, shooing the Amalgamates away by telling them she has food for them. She begins to explain what happened here, calling herself a coward. You shake your head no. She falls silent at that and stares at you like someone awaiting judgment, which, in a way, you suppose she is. You take a step towards her, and another, and before you know it, you’re holding Alphys as tight as you can, trembling slightly.

“Y-you were that worried about me?” she asks, holding you just as tightly in return. You nod into her lab coat, fist clenched into the material. Instead, Alphys buries her face into your hair.

“Thank you, Frisk. It’s going to be hard, telling everyone the truth. Being honest with myself and with others. And I might get scared or screw up again but… Knowing that I have you and Undyne and the others at my back… Well, it makes me think that, even if I fail, I’ll have the strength to try again because I won’t be alone anymore.”

You nod your head, the top of your head feels a little wet, but you ignore it, respecting Alphy’s privacy. And she ignores how the front of her coat is wet too, respecting yours. For a long few moments, you two find comfort and offer comfort to one another before Alphys pulls away, rubbing at her eyes and offering you a shaky smile which you return. She calls for the other Amalgamates, who had been lurking in the corners of the room, telling them she’s going to take them home before heading towards the door. She pauses at the doorway once, looking back at you, seeking reassurance or comfort. You’re not sure which, but you give her a smile and a thumbs up to which she grins broadly and happily returns. Then, her back straight and stride confident, she leaves the room.

You follow her soon after, stopping only to read the new log entries that had previously been dark. These ones describe how Alphys injected a flower with Determination… and how it subsequently disappeared. You shiver. You enter the elevator and your phone, the one that was broken… it rings. You answer.

“Chara…” says a voice you feel you should recognize. You feel Chara stir within you.

“Chara are you there? It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? But you’ve done well. Thanks to you, everything has fallen into place. See you soon.”

The doors slam shut, and you stumble as the elevator begins a rapid ascent.

 

 

"If you don' want me I can go off in the hills an' find a cave. I can go away any time."  
"No—look! I was jus' foolin', Lennie. 'Cause I want you to stay with me."

  
-Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck


	13. The Locket Or The Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Kath-ren on tumblr for editing!

New Home is as empty as it is beautiful. You’re not sure if that is because there are simply more monsters in other parts of the underground, or if they simply know of your coming. The colors here are faded and pallid, despite the obvious newness of the place compared to the Ruins. The air feels lifeless and still. You shiver, chilly. There is no welcoming music or smiling monsters. Everyone here is quiet and listless, speaking only long enough to give you pieces to a puzzle, a puzzle whose shape is sadder than you could have imagined. Chara is quiet. They have been since the mysterious phone call in the elevator. Still, they are present, which is more than could have been said before. They seem to be thinking deeply about something, so you leave them be. Each step you take is filled with resignation. Kill or be killed, Flowey had once said. Is that really the only way? Since falling down, you’ d made such good friends, you’ve had so much fun. To give that up now, after everything? You’re not sure you’re strong enough to go down without a fight. 

 

Walking through the King’s home is unnerving— like walking through a ruin because, unlike the actual Ruins, there is no life here. Asgore’s house, so similar to Toriel’s home, is completely colorless, except the occasional yellow flower. You enter a room with two beds, with two presents on the floor beside them. Unnerved even further, you open the first and find a heart shaped locket, emanating warmth and soothing magic... though perhaps, that could also be the sudden fondness you feel coming from Chara. The other box contains an old knife. Thinking of what you must do, you take it out with steady, but clumsy hands, unsure of how to hold it. You’ve never held a real knife before. You exit the room hastily after that, not pausing to look around. You head further down the hallway, spotting a key on a side table and effortlessly hooking it to your keychain. From the corner of your eye you spot a mirror, in the same corner that Toriel had hers. Slowly, you walk towards it, hesitation in every step. At first you look at your feet, then to the wall, unable to meet your own eyes. But you’re braver than you believe you are, because— at your own pace, in your own time— you do meet your own eyes. 

 

This is what you see: a child on the cusp of adulthood, with tired eyes and a kind, exhausted smile; scuffs and bruises, damaged goods; brown skin, dark hair, pudgy stomach and tiny hands; a striped sweater, just a little too big. You raise your hand, the one not holding the knife, and meet your reflection’s palm before curling it into a fist. You slump forward, your forehead resting against the mirror, closing your eyes as you take it all in. 

 

Despite everything, it’s still you. 

 

Determination wells up within you. No. You will not kill, and you will not be killed. You’re still you, and that’s not going to change. You drop the knife with a thump and walk away without looking back. There is always a choice, and you have made yours. 

 

You continue on your way, grabbing the second key, and heading down to the basement. The monsters continue telling their story, and you listen. You have both sides of the story now, both Chara’s and the story as the monsters know it. You only become more determined. Nothing will stop you now. You head down the hallway to a set of tall, regal doors carved with the royal symbol on them. When you open them, something almost like sunlight streams through high mosaic windows, bathing the corridor in warm, yellow light. There are no monsters here that you can see. Each step you take echos through the corridor with a faint tap-tap-tap. You take deep breaths, trying to soothe your racing heart. You feel like you’re getting close to the end. As you walk, you spot a figure cast in shadow, leaning against a pillar. Your steps slow until you come to a halt. The figure pushes themselves off the pillar with their shoulder and ambles toward the center of the hall before turning to face you. The light casts sharp, contrasting shadows across their face— white bone and eternal grin to one side, and utter darkness, broken only by the glowing blue of an eye, to the other. Somewhere in the distance, a bell cries out for judgment. 

 

You haven’t seen much of the skeleton brothers since leaving their home however long ago. As Sans stares through you, you can’t tell what he’s feeling now.  The urge to fidget is strong, but you resist. You’re not really sure what he’s looking for, or why he hasn’t said anything, but you’re good at waiting games. So you simply pause, waiting to hear what he has to say. 

 

An undetermined amount of time later, it seems Sans has either found or... hasn’t found... whatever it is he was looking for. He sighs, and his shoulders lose their stiffness, grin easing into something a little softer and more genuine. 

 

“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, sounding tired, “You’ve had quite the adventure, haven’t you?”

 

The easy going tone soothes the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding. You give a small smile in return with a nod. It’s good to see Sans again— you had missed him. He explains EXP and LOVE to you, and your blood runs cold. You’d figured out Flowey had probably been lying to you, or at least misleading you after he attacked you, but you hadn’t realized the extent of it. 

 

“You never gained any LOVE, but you gained love. Does that make sense?” 

 

And miraculously, it does. You think of Sans and Papyrus and Undyne and Alphys and Toriel. You had gained love. You. You smile to show your understanding. For a moment, Sans’ grin widens. Then he sighs, sockets closing slowly before opening and staring you straight in the eye. 

 

“Hey, Kiddo,” he begins slowly, sounding resigned, “You know that to get out of here, you’re going to have to  _ kill _ Asgore, don’t you?” 

 

Slowly, you nod. That’s what Alphys had said, but you were determined to find another way. He stares at you for a long moment, assessing you.

 

“You’re not planning on killing him.”

 

It’s not a question, but you shake your head no anyway.

 

“Kid,” he sighs, wiping his hand down his face in an exasperated gesture, “Kiddo, you’re the last piece to what the King’s been fighting for. He’s not gonna accept Mercy, and he’s not gonna offer it either, but… you know that already.” 

 

You nod. 

 

He looks almost distressed at that— like you’d confirmed something dark and terrible— but it quickly fades into resignation. You don’t think you’ve seen Sans without his customary smile in so long. 

 

“You’re a good kid,” Sans murmurs. He sounds a bit choked. 

 

Suddenly, the weight of your fear settles over you like a mantel or a crown. You’re not going to kill, but you don’t want to be killed either. You don’t know what’s going to happen or what you’re going to do. It’s strange how things can change so much in such a short amount of time. Before you realize what you’re doing, you find yourself in Sans’s arms, squeezing tightly and shaking a little. You’re determined, yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re not scared. Underneath all that determination, you’re still just so young.

 

“Shhh... Kiddo, I know... I know,” he soothes, rubbing circles into your back, “God you’re so small,” he murmurs to himself. 

 

You pull away slowly, wiping the tears from your eyes before they can fall and smiling as wide as you can for Sans, despite the tears clinging to the corners of your eyes. He smiles back, reaching out and ruffling your hair. You giggle a bit. Sans sighs— you never realized how much he does that before now.

 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he says with the air of someone fighting a losing battle. You smile softly and shake your head because, yes, yes you do.

 

Sans closes his eyesockets briefly, repeating, “You’re a good kid.” He opens his eyes, staring at you, holding eye contact. Another thing you hadn’t noticed before; Sans doesn’t like eye contact very much, he doesn’t do it very often. He’s silent for a long moment as though internally debating something.

 

“If anyone can find a different way, it’ll be you, Kiddo. Just, heh, stay Determined.” 

 

With that, he turns on his heel, flickers, and disappears. For a moment, you stand there in the brightly lit hallway, contemplating your future. With a sigh, you straighten  your shoulders and continue on. Towards the throne room. From here, you can hear the faint sound of birds tweeting and smell the scent of fresh flowers blooming, drifting lazily through the dusty air.

 

You take a deep breath, then another. You think of your friends and open the door. 

  
The world goes white.      

 

 

“‘Go on, George. When we gonna do it?’

‘Gonna do it soon.’

‘Me an’ you’

‘You...an’ me. Ever’body gonna be nice to you. Ain’t gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna hurt nobody nor steal from ‘em’”

 

-Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck


	14. Fight Or Mercy (Or...?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Kath-ren of tumblr per usual! Go check her out!

Asgore is simultaneously larger and smaller than you expect. Physically, he is much larger than you, but he holds no pride in himself; he slouches over, trying in every way to make himself seem smaller than he really is, as though trying to hide from inevitability. You can tell he is a very sad Monster

 

In the strange way that Chara’s emotions influence yours, so do their memories; you have the after-impression of someone who stood tall, who was proud without being boastful, who held enough joy, that spreading it came as easy as breathing for him. The difference in him from what Chara remembers makes them cry, softly, in the back of your mind. It makes you want to cry too.

 

You’re not ready for this, but that’s okay because Asgore says he’s not ready either. You wonder if life is a series of doing things you’re not ready for. He brings you to the barrier’s edge. He offers you one last chance to turn back, but you refuse; all you need to say has been said already. He smiles sadly. Then his face hardens. Asgore pulls out his trident and pierces through Mercy’s heart, shattering it. It bites into your own soul. Sans _did_ say Asgore would make it impossible to Spare him.

 

You whisper that you don’t want to fight. Asgore’s hands shake and then steady as he lobs fire magic at you. You dodge and swerve.

 

You state firmly that you don’t want to fight, huffing for breath as you duck under a fireball— you feel almost like a ballerina, dancing through fire as though it were second nature to you.

 

You shout it next— Asgore, I don’t want to fight!

 

His entire body shudders, as he swipes at your Soul with his trident. Exuding both patience and bravery, you hold still through the assault and rush headlong into it as needed. You search for and find the pattern of attack he uses, and his next attack is easier to dodge than the last. You glare at him and, instead of dodging, spread your legs in a wide stance and face the attack head on, a green shield flickering around your soul. There’s no time for surprise, as the fireballs crash into the shields with vengeance. You hold your head high, for you are filled with a sense of justice that is undeniable; what you are doing is right. You feel them, resonating within you, guarding you, showing you the way. Those who came before you. 

 

The King Of All Monsters raises his trident high into the air. You spread your arms wide, making yourself vulnerable, and you scream at the top of your lungs, “I don’t want to fight you!”

 

For a second, he hesitates, and you stare defiantly back at him. You are filled with determination and justice and kindness and bravery and patience and integrity and perseverance. You feel the echos of all who came before you, of all who stood where you’re standing now, and of all those who never made it— all of them, standing with you. They’re supporting you. Asgore’s hands shake, his hesitation growing. His trident lowers a fraction; then his hand clenches his trident, and he raises once more. The trident comes down…!

 

And just like so long ago, a burst of fire comes forth and chases the antagonizer away.

 

“And you’ll never have to, my darling child.”

 

That voice, that magic... tears instantly fill your eyes,  and you shove your hands to them to stem the flow. Between one breath and the next, Toriel is kneeling before you, making shushing sounds. You’re just so happy to see her again…!

 

“I was going to speak of how even an urchin like Asgore deserves Mercy, but oh my child, you already know that don’t you?” Toriel murmurs, shooing your hands away and wiping the tears  herself. “You were so brave, so determined to end things here peacefully...you didn’t even bring a weapon did you?”

 

You lean into her paw, sniffling softly.

 

“Whaaaat? You faced Asgore without a weapon?! You really are a weenie, aren’t you!” shouts Undyne, as she strides towards Asgore’s side, helping him up.

 

“I-I thought it was very brave!” Alphys responds shyly, taking Undyne’s free hand into her own, “They had no way of knowing that we were coming after all.”

 

“Oh, are you two friends of Frisk? I am Toriel.”

 

“Ohh...is that your ex? That’s rough buddy.”

 

“Hey! Nobody fight each oth— oh no, one is fighting! It must be the Influence of I, The Great Papyrus! Wow, did the King make a clone of himself? And then shave?” Papyrus stage whispers to Sans, who strolls into existence between blinks.

 

“Nah, I’d say that’d be a baaaah’d idea.”

 

“No! No puns!”

 

Toriel recognizes Sans and makes a lame joke about shin-gles. Papyrus stomps his foot and protests. They’re all talking and laughing— all your precious people in one place. You’re so happy you could burst.

 

Toriel chuckles before smiling at you, “It seems, my child, as though you must stay here for a while. But looking at all of these friends you have made...I think....I think you will be happy here.”

 

“No, Tori,” interrupts the King before you have time to process what Toriel is saying. He raises to his full height, “That is not our choice to make.”

 

He turns to you, his eyes glazed over, “Child, you’ve fought so hard to get here, and I...I have forgotten what it means to truly rule. Tori is right— I am not fit to be the leader the Underground needs. My way only led to the deaths of six humans and to the persistent suffering of our people. So please, if you wish it, take my soul and leave this place.”

 

“What the hell!? No!”

 

“King Asgore…!”

 

“Dreemur, that is not…!”

 

“Enough,” the King says with finality in his voice, a single paw raised, “We cannot...I cannot force a child to stay here— especially not one I nearly killed. The only way to make this right is to offer something of equal value in return: a life for a life.”

 

The surrounding world goes dark as once more your soul is drawn into battle.

 

“I expect all of you to respect Frisk’s decision, no matter what it might be.”

 

Before  you lies two choices, a closed fist or an open hand. To Fight or to extend Mercy. Between you and Agore is your soul, floating and bobbing up and down as tho riding a gentle current. A better person than you would have chosen Mercy without a second thought. A more decisive person may have chosen to Fight to get it over with. You are neither, so you are caught staring up at Asgore, surrounded on either side by Fight and Mercy, with your soul floating between them. He looks sad.

 

Fight or Mercy.

 

What do you do? What do you do? What do you do?

 

How can he ask this of you? You’re just a kid! Shouldn’t the adults make these decisions? Hadn’t you made enough choices here? You can vaguely hear voices angrily speaking over each other and to each other and to Asgore and to you, hotly debating both choices, but none of them deny that this is a choice for you alone to make.

 

Fight or Mercy? Fight or Mercy?

 

 _Or….?_ breathes Chara, more than a thought, less than a whisper.

 

Or? Or? What else is there? You can’t stay here in the Underground, you swore when you left that you would never be trapped again. You can’t leave either... how could you live with yourself if you took another person’s life just so you could live yours? How could you do that to all the friends you’ve made Underground? It’s either Fight... or Mercy or....or….

 

Oh.

 

That’s right.

 

Hadn’t this been what Chara and Asriel wanted all along?

 

A way… a way to free everyone…?

 

Fight or Mercy or…?

 

Your gaze turns to the heart floating between you and the King of All Monsters. You reach out, and silence fills the room as everyone waits with baited breath for your choice. You cup your small hands around the large heart, cradling it to your chest for a moment, for a breath, for an eternity. Your hands are steady. You smile.

 

Or.

 

You extend your hands out to Asgore, who towers above you, overshadowing you. The glow of your Soul illuminates your smile. There are several heartbeats of silence between you and him and everyone. When the choice clicks with everyone, there’s an immediate uproar of No’s and Don’ts and Pleases. Asgore says nothing. He looks you in the eye. You realize that he hasn’t looked you in the eye before this moment. You remind him that he gave you the choice, that his fate, their fate, everyone’s fate— he left that to you. And this is what you’ve chosen. Asgore nods gravely. He summons his trident, and his eyes are soft and wet. You don’t look away. Chara, for the first time since you’d become aware of them, is at peace. And so are you. This way, you are neither murderer nor prisoner. Your friends get to be free.

 

This is the best choice— for everyone.

 

From the corner of your eye, just as the trident comes down, something slithers. On instinct, you dodge backwards, barely missing the vines that sweep through the room, wrapping themselves around your friends. Your soul fades, sinking back into your chest, to safety.

 

In the center of the room is Flowey.

 

“Hee hee hee, while you guys where having your little, Heart To Heart… I took the human souls! I suppose I should have waited for Asgore here to take your soul, too, but it doesn’t matter! I have the human souls and your friends’ too. Getting yours will be easy!

 

“And the best part? It’s _all your fault_ ! It’s all because you _made_ them love you! All the time you spent listening to them, encouraging them, caring about them… without that, they wouldn’t have come here to protect you! And now, with all these souls together, I can finally achieve my real form!”

 

You ask him why he’s doing this.

 

“Because! If you leave here satisfied, you won’t come back— you’ll win our little game! And I can’t let that happen!

 

“So I’ll hold victory in front of you, _just_ out of reach, and I’ll kill you again and again and again! You’ll have to play with me forever!”

 

A vine strikes out, and before you can dodge, it it sinks into your chest— not physically harming you, but causing you to gasp as it rips your Soul from it’s rightful place and forcing you into a Fight. Vines wrap around your heart, holding it aloft and rendered immobile for all to see. Your friends struggle against the vines uselessly, calling out for you. Petals surround your Soul as Flowey laughs and laughs. They rip through your Soul causing you to cry out once, twice, three times— each time drawing a wail of utter pain from you until you’re hunched over on your knees, grasping at your chest as though the action will soothe your Soul. The petals surround your Soul once more. Your HP is at one, and you can’t move your Soul a single centimeter. You can’t do anything but await the inevitable. You close your eyes tight, your very soul crying out for help…!

 

A ring of fire, warm and fierce, surrounds your soul, moving outward in all directions and burning the petals to ash.

 

“Don’t be afraid, my darling child… No matter what happens, we’ll always be there to protect you!”

 

“Shut up, you!” screeches Flowey, tightening his Vine’s hold on both your Soul and your friends.

 

Petals flank your Soul on either side, approaching rapidly, before being deflected by bones and spears alike.

 

“My dear friend! You can do this! Just do what I do, and believe in _you_!”

 

“Hey, squirt! If you got past me, you do anything! So don’t give up! We’re with you all the way!”

 

Another round of petals from an increasingly enraged Flowey is blocked by another round of bones, “Pinky promise… remember, Kiddo? I’ve got your back.”

 

“Shut up shut up shutupshutupshutUP!!!”

 

Once more, the petals come for you, this time blocked by fire and lightning alike as Asgore and Alphys call out to you, “Stay Determined, Frisk!”

 

“I know you can do it!”

 

Then, as though summoned by an unheard call, Monsters begin flooding the room. Each of them layering your Soul with protective magics and each offering words of encouragement. All your friends that you’ve made are all standing up for you, protecting you, in this one crucial moment….

 

It fills you with Determination.

 

You stand from your crouched position, straightening your shoulders and sliding your feet apart in a wide, defiant stance, facing down your friends’ captor. Your Soul is still wrapped in vines, but it glows brighter and brighter, pulsating with your heartbeat, each thump brightening the light that illuminates it from within. Flowey is looking around wildly, his eyes wide and body trembling.

 

He mumbles to himself, “I can’t believe… that you’re all so _stupid_!

 

“All your Souls are MINE!”

 

You throw your arms up, blocking the harsh white light from burning your eyes. You can’t hear anything over the ringing in your ears, but you fear— not for yourself— but for your friends. When the light fades, you open your eyes, blinking the white spots away from your vision. Your friends are gone, as are the vines. Your soul floats before you, trembling slightly. But there, beyond your soul, is someone different. Someone new. Someone you’ve never seen before.

 

You know who he is.

 

Soft, white fur with speckles on big floppy ears. Big green sweater with yellow stripes and black pants. His feet are bare. He shifts his head back and forth; clenches and unclenches his hands; shrugs his shoulders like Atlas.

 

Within you, Chara trembles.

 

“Finally,” the monster child murmurs, voice sweet and pure, “I was so tired of being a flower.”

 

He turns slowly.

 

“Howdy! Chara! Are you there? It’s me your best friend,” a flash and the small goat child is gone, reborn into a larger adult wearing the Royal Crest and eyes dark like the sky. A heart pendant to match your own drapes across his neck,

 

“A s r i e l  D r e e m u r”

  
  


“Trouble with mice is you always kill 'em. ”

  
Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck


	15. To Live or To Let Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Final Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kath-ren of tumblr! Go check them out!
> 
> So some exciting news everyone...the last chapter has been edited by Kath-ren! That means over the next week I'll e uploading the last two chapters here! It's been a wild ride from start to finish but I'm grateful to all of you who have stuck around so far to see this happen.

It’s the Final Battle. 

 

Asriel’s attacks are ruthless. You dodge them as best as you can amidst his taunts. You hold onto your Hopes and Dreams as you fight against impossible odds. 

 

Asriels explains his plans for the timeline— to Reset over and over again, forever denying you and your friends your freedom, caught in an endless loop. He mocks you for loving your friends. After all, isn’t that what got you into this situation in the first place? Loving your friends?

 

After what seems like an eternity, of dodging to the best of your ability and taking in Asriel’s taunts, things change. Asriel changes into his “True Form.” His body churns and writhes, decorating himself in stolen Souls. You can’t move your body. You struggle. You still can’t move. You feel your soul trickle down to zero. You feel it crack down the middle, then snap in half, only pure, raw determination stitching it back together. Asriel taunts you, telling you that each death only causes your friends to forget about you a little more. He tells you how you’ll die, alone and forgotten in the dark. You hold on, you struggle, you reach for your Save file, you reach for anything at all— to no prevail. It seems saving really is impossible. 

 

But maybe you can Save something else? Someone else? 

 

You close your eyes, clearing your mind and focusing on the being before you, reaching out with your Soul for your friends, entering a strange in-between world where reality is paused. You focus on finding your friends. You search first for Toriel, your first friend in the Underground, and you draw her Soul close to your own. Her presence fills the void, and you can see her silhouette; despite her blurred and hazy face, you know it is her. Sorrowful, fearful words slide from under her breath, and your heart breaks for the one you once asked to call mother You extend Mercy to her, telling her that you don’t wish to fight. She seems to hear you, as her attacks fall apart and become wild. You tell her it’s time to leave this place, together, and something seems to change in her. She shakes her head. The fog dissipates from around her until her face is once more graced by her soft smile, the smile you’ve come to associate with safety. 

 

Next is Undyne, for whom you grin widely, just as she always had for you. Then it’s Alphys, who you draw out with enthusiastic nerd talk. Papyrus is next. You tell him you love his spaghetti. Then it’s Sans, to whom you promise that you’ll consider his judicious words carefully. For each of your friends, you draw them close to your Soul before letting go. You brush their Souls with your own in order to remind them of who they are, who you are, and what you’re all fighting for. 

 

Then, Asgore is the only one left. You draw his soul forth, but unlike the others, he resists with everything he has. He fights harder than the others, won’t allow you to perform Mercy on him, refuses all offers at kindness that you try to extend. You’re at a loss for what to do. How can you Save him? He mumbles to himself than that he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. You shoot back that you forgive him anyway. That it’s your choice to forgive him, not his. This, at least, seems to get through to him. He shakes his head, mumbling doubts and fears and sorrows for you to hear. You think these are things you shouldn’t be hearing. You hope that Asgore and your friends will forgive you this intrusion on their darkest thoughts. You think that Asgore has waited for a long time for someone to hate him as much as he hates himself. But you refuse to be that person, and you tell him so. 

 

The haze over his face lifts, and he blinks at you in amazement.

 

“Who taught you to be so kind?” he asks. You tell him.

 

“Me. Because it is your own choice to be kind, not anyone else’s.”

 

He nods gravely and fades away. 

 

With the last of your friends free, you close your eyes to leave the strange trance. Before you can awaken and struggle once more against Asriel, you sense it. Another Soul, crying out for help, alone in the dark. Chara recognizes them before you do, calling out, “Asriel! Asriel!” Together, you both reach out, the two of you, side-by-side in this strange in-between world. Your right hand, their left, you and Chara reach out to one last, lost Soul. 

 

Asriel begins to grow angry, then panicked. In his hysterics, he blasts you with a rainbow of pure light. He sobs, begging you to stop, begging you to let him win. But you hold on, refusing to allow your HP to drop to zero. Asriel pleads, bellowing out to Chara, imploring them not to leave. 

You wonder at how wishes can go wrong. 

 

You think that if Chara had a body, they’d be crying. You can feel their desire to cry well up in your own eyes and spill over your own cheeks, hot and stinging, melting away the dust and dirt from your skin. Despite these tears that are not your tears, you are determined to save everyone. With a heavy soul and pink, wet face, you and Chara both reach out one last time for Asriel. A flash of light, bright as can be, fills the room. You raise your hands to block out the light. When it fades, you lower your arms and slowly open your eyes. 

 

Before you is a kid, a little goatling child in a green-and-yellow striped shirt and black pants, with soft white fur and speckled ears. Chara makes a noise of pure despair that’s vocalized through your throat. 

 

“I always was a crybaby, wasn’t I, Chara?” a pause and a sniff, “I know… I know you aren’t actually Chara, are you? They’ve been gone a long time.” 

 

The noise Chara makes is like a laugh and a cry, something broken and fragile. You wish more than ever that others could see Chara. The words are on the tip of  your tongue— 

. But Chara shakes their head, so you keep their silence.

“You’re… you’re Frisk, aren’t you?” Asriel continues, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Your name resonates in all these souls. They all believe in you, Frisk. That love they have for you, Frisk… it’s been so long since I felt it.” 

 

Asriel speaks of how, as a flower, he couldn’t feel love or compassion or happiness, but now, he not only feels his own compassion, but everyone else’s, as well. 

 

“I wish I could tell you how everyone feels about you… Papyrus… Sans… Undyne… Alphys… Toriel… 

 

“Monsters are weird.

 

“Even though they barely know you, it feels like they really love you.

 

“Frisk… I… I understand if you can’t forgive me. I understand if—” 

 

You interrupt him there, approaching Asriel and wrapping your arms around him. You feel as if you are holding his body together. He holds back just as tightly. His frame feels so small against your own… small and trembling. 

 

Eventually, he pulls away, a familiar spark in his eyes that reminds you of yourself. Chara stands close, not quite touching Asriel, but looking like they want to. 

 

“I can’t keep everyone’s Souls inside me,” says Asriel. He sounds like he wants to though, “I can’t but… right now, I can feel everyone’s hearts beating as one. They all want the same thing. They want the barrier destroyed. They want to finally go free.” 

 

With that, Asriel pulls away more fully. He looks within himself for the souls. He begins to hover in the air, the sheer power of six human souls and the entirety of the underground lifting him up. The souls swirl around him, spinning faster and faster until all you can see is white. You hear something shatter— like glass, but more thunderous— echoing through the dark. You open your eyes. 

 

The barrier is destroyed.

 

Slowly, Asriel’s body is lowered to the ground. He explains that he can’t maintain this form any longer. He’ll turn back into a flower soon. You comfort him, once more holding his tiny body to yours, and he holds you back, sniffling softly. 

 

“Take care of Mom and Dad for me, okay?”

 

And with that he disappears.

 

For a long few moments, you stand in the dark and quiet accompanied only by the faint sounds of Chara sobbing. You wish you could comfort them the way you did Asriel. Instead, you stand close to their incorporeal form, offering them the comfort of your presence. 

 

“...-ay determined!” you hear in the distance, from all around. Your eyes go wide, and you whip your head around. 

 

“...-isk! Wake up!”

 

“...-ever seen HP so low and it’s only dro-...”

 

“Kiddo, this ain’t…”

 

So many voices all talking at once, you’re dizzy from it. You sway and collapse to your knees, suddenly exhausted. Chara drops beside you, their ethereal hands having a sudden solid weight. You’re scared, you realize. This must be dying, you think. Your Soul— it’s still damaged from Asriel’s attack. You weakly raise your hands before you, summoning it. The normally vibrant crimson has become faded and grey. Your HP is still at 0.0000000001. You try to summon up some Determination, but all you feel is heavy and tired. 

 

“No!” cries Chara, grasping you tightly. You lean into their solid warmth, “No, I won’t fail again, I won’t!” 

 

“...-stabilizing? What’s-”

 

“Keep fighting, Friend!” 

 

“Frisk! Stay Determined!” 

 

You open your eyes— when had you closed them?— to see Chara’s own soul, bright red with burgundy edges, float next to yours.

 

, your words slur.

 

“I’m already dead Frisk! But you— you don’t have to be! You have a whole future in front of you!”

 

You feel too weak to saying further. You feel like you’re being pulled away. You blink slowly. Chara feels weightless against you again, and your soul has regained some of its color. Their Soul, which is gently touching yours, is bleeding red into it. You gasp, trying to say something, but Chara interrupts.

 

“I’m just a fragment Frisk,” they sound resigned and determined, “like those echo flowers… I’m just a passing conversation, and I’ve… I’ve already overstayed my welcome here.

 

“Just take care of them for me alright? Take care of them and 

.” 

 

As the last of the color drains from Chara’s soul and into yours, you feel the something else tug harder at you than before. Quickly, you shout to Chara with all your might. 

 

“I will!” 

 

And with a gasp and a cough, you wake up. You blink, trying to gather your bearings, taking in the mass of worried faces surrounding you. 

 

“Oh, thank goodness! Frisk! You almost died! Your HP was-was-was-!” Alphys bursts into tears, burying herself into Undyne’s jacket.

 

“Heh heh, it’s not a competition for lowest HP, ya know Kiddo?” Sans says, his voice shaking and sweat dripping down his skull. 

 

“Punk! That was! That was!” Undyne tries to get out, anger trying to overcome her, but all she can manage is a wide grin through the tears streaming down her own face. 

 

“Friend Frisk, that was most terrifying! Luckily I, The great Papyrus, knew you would pull through!” 

 

You are swept up into big, warm arms, and Toriel is holding you close to her. She does not saying a thing, but her arms are shaking around you, her face buried in your hair. You pat her paw softly, trying to offer what comfort you can. You feel a layer of warmth lay against you that makes you start; it’s cozy, and it feels like fire magic. Then another layer of comfort. This one feels warm, too, but different… more like the blue magic of Papyrus. As though a dam is opening, you’re suddenly surrounded in magic of all kinds— green magic, yellow magic, more. The magic is not pulling your Soul out for a Fight; it’s just laying across your skin like a blanket or a hug. 

 

You make a small noise of confusion, and almost as one, the magics pull back leaving you feeling chilled. 

 

“I’m sorry, my child,” begins Toriel, ”For Monsters, we use our magic in everyday life— including in comforting one another. I suppose that we simply forgot that you would not be used to such magics.” 

 

You shake your head. You tell her you don’t mind, that it was comfortable, even. And like a trickle of water, the magics pour over you once more, one by one. You feel… safe. It makes you want to cry. Chara’s absence throbs in the back of your mind. They’re not there to call you a crybaby anymore. That, too, makes you want to cry. You squeeze your eyes shut, as though it could possibly stem the tide. They trickle out one by one, tracing your face and dripping down onto Toriel’s paw. She squeezes you tighter, and you feel her magic against you, trying to quell the invisible hurts. 

 

  
After the tears slow down some, Asgore slowly asks, “Frisk, what brought your HP so low? All any of us remember is a flower grabbing hold of us, and now… Now the Barrier is broken.”

 

The others are silent as they wait for your reply, but all that comes out is a fresh batch of silent sobs. They huddle closer to you, their magics warm against your skin, as they offer you comfort the way one Monster would another. You wish Chara was here. How do you you even begin to explain that Asriel and Flowey are the same being? That Alphys’s experiments, no matter how well intentioned, accidentally cursed Asriel to a half-life? That Chara was with you this whole time, and, for a time, wanted to kill all of them? How can you hurt them that way? The short answer is that you can’t. You can’t possibly hurt them that way. Especially not Toriel. 

 

“Dreemur, let the child rest,” interrupts Toriel, “They’re obviously upset and in no place to be explaining anything. There is time for this later. For now, Frisk needs to heal.” 

 

You wipe your face on your sleeve and sniff loudly, taking several stuttering breaths to calm yourself. You lean back more fully into Toriel, allowing her to fully support you. For several long moments there’s nothing, as you soak in the calming magic of your dear friends. They talk quietly amongst themselves, even Papyrus’s usually boisterous voice is subdued, as they allow you your time to recuperate. You’re grateful. 

 

During a lull in the conversation you ask, quietly, if the Barrier is really broken. 

 

“Yes, my child,” replies Toriel. The question must be obvious on your face— then why hadn’t they left yet?— because Toriel smiles sadly as she continues. 

 

“We were so worried for you, Frisk, we thought that… well never mind that,” she waves a hand in the air, as though banishing the thought she couldn’t bare to speak. 

 

At that, you feel… something. Something dear. You’re not quite sure what, exactly, but it’s good. A small, shy smile twitches at your lips, as you bury yourself further into Toriel. They hadn’t left because of you. You feel like  you should feel guilty for that, but… you don’t. They care for you, so they stayed for you. 

 

A realization settles over you. Something Sans said comes back, echoing through your mind, while you allow those around you to comfort you and draw comfort from you in return.

 

_You never gained LOVE, but you had gained love._

  
  


“‘But not us’ he said.

‘Because-’

‘Because I got you an’-’

‘An I got you. We got each other, that’s what, that gives a hoot in hell about us’”

-Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck


	16. Comfort or Do Not

When Toriel asks if you’re ready to leave this place, you shake your head slowly. You want to roam the Underground one last time, you tell her. You want to say goodbye to this place. You’re a little nervous.  _ What if they leave without you? _ But Toriel smiles and says she understands, though she looks a little nervous herself. She settles when Sans touches her arm gently, and they share a look you can’t quite discern. Grown ups are weird that way. You can almost hear Chara giggling in agreement, but you push the thought aside, tucking it into the corner of your heart.  _ Later _ , you think,  _ there will be time for mourning _ . You have that luxury now. 

 

You talk to everyone before you leave, reluctant to let them out of your sight on several levels. Toriel eventually shoos you away gently with a smile, saying they’ll be right here, waiting for you. She promises. You make her pinky swear. She seems bemused by the idea, and it’s a little awkward since her paws aren’t shaped the way San’s bony hands are, but you make it work. Satisfied with the promise, you glance back one last time before disappearing back into New Home. 

 

Toriel texts you every few minutes. You think she understands loneliness better than anyone, and she understands you better than anyone. Sometimes, she makes little observations, sometimes she tells jokes, sometimes she just reminds you to be careful, to eat. You think Chara and Asriel must have been so well loved, once.  _ Later _ , you think,  _ later _ . 

 

The Monsters all have mixed feelings about their newfound freedom, having felt the absence of the Barrier’s omnipresent magic upon waking up. Those who didn’t quite know what it meant are quickly informed. With few exceptions, no one remembers a time before the Barrier. Some of them don’t know what to do with the lack of Barrier magic and are hiding in their homes. Some little children are crying at the sudden change, like an old blanket being abruptly taken away. Some walk around in a daze, drunk on the feeling of freedom after so long spent in chains. Despite the complicated feelings everyone is having towards the Barrier breaking, everyone is still ecstatic. There are monsters openly crying from joy in the streets, friends and family embracing one another tightly. No monster is alone, everyone is in pairs or groups, and they are all so happy. Excited magic bounds through the air as everyone reaches out to everyone else. No Monster is an island now. Everyone’s hearts are beating as one. 

 

The Monsters are so busy celebrating that not many pay you any mind, but you prefer it that way. It brings warmth to your chest, seeing so many happy Monsters. Snowdin is different from Hotland or Waterfall, where you got through with scarcely a word from anyone. Here, everyone seems to have something to say to you, mostly happy hugs. The residents of Snowdin knew you longest, after all, as you had spent the most time here. Grillby’s flames are white with pleasure when you poke your head into the bar, and upon spotting you, he immediately ushers you to a seat at the bar and feeds you fries. You suspect Toriel’s influence in this. Then, quietly, his voice like the crackling of a fire, he thanks you. 

 

“My customers have never been so happy,” he says.

 

Your eyes widen, and you ask him what he has to thank you for. He simply gives you a look (of amusement? Exasperation? It’s hard to tell, with his features being literally made of fire), and he whispers that he’s older than he looks before attending to Dogamy and Doggressa in the corner, who are out of treats. You could understand that Gerson, the old turtle Monster in Waterfall, would recognize a human, as he is only a generation or two removed from the surface. Gerson laughed joyously at the news of the broken Barrier. You can understand the Royal Guards recognizing a human, as they are trained to hunt them, and even  _ they _ sometimes mistook you for a Monster child. You shake your head, munching on your fries. Monsters are weird, you conclude. But Humans are, too. You know that soon you won’t be able to deny being Human to the Monsters of the Underground. But for now, it’s nice to get by unnoticed. 

 

After leaving the bar, you stop by Buttercrunch, who lets out a  _ nyeh-heh-heh _ in greeting that has you giggling. He asks in a whisper if you’re responsible for the Barrier breaking. In response, you tilt your hand left and right in the air in a ‘sorta’ gesture. It’s a long story, and you don’t want news to get out quite yet. When it looks like Buttercrunch is going to vibrate out of his scales in excitement, you mime a zipper shutting your mouth and locking it with a key, then you throw said imaginary key away. Buttercrunch nods gravely. Secrets are serious business, afterall. Still, he comes forward and butts his head against yours for a long moment, his magic brushing against you in a friendly and playful way before retreating. Then he backs away, smiling hugely before running off with a ‘Nyeh-heh-heh’ to find his little sister.

 

Leaving Snowdin and entering the snowy forest is a treat of solitude. You take deep breaths and huff out large steam clouds, idly pretending to be a dragon. You pass Snowey and his reunited family at one point, quietly huddled together, their magic cocooned around the small family unit. It makes you smile, and you leave before you can be noticed. You make a quick visit to the Snowman, whose piece you’re still carrying with you, and you promise to take it with you to the surface until arrangements can be made to move the snowman. 

 

Before you can know it, you’re at the entrance of the Ruins. The door is flung wide open, as though someone left in a hurry. You text Toriel a less-than-three. Slowly, you enter the Ruins, feeling years younger as you step over the threshold, despite it only being a few weeks since you left. Toriel’s home, once bristling with magic and life, feels empty and quiet without her presence. The faint smell Butterscotch-Cinnamon Pie lingers in the air. Your fingers drift along the walls as you explore the Home. You enter the room that could have been yours and lay in the bed you once slept in, closing your eyes and breathing slowly. The bed feels small now. A little reluctantly, you get up, continuing your exploration. Your fingers trace the picture frames that show a happy family of four, the two children with their faces buried in Buttercups. You stand in the center of the room that could have been yours and was once theirs, and you allow a few tears to fall for them. For Chara and Asriel and Asgore and Toriel. For the family that they were for a time. Chara would call you a cry baby, you know. 

 

_ Later _ , you think as you dry your eyes.  _ Later. _

 

You straighten your shoulders and continue on. You speak with all those you come across, a feeling guiding you to the start. A Froggit quietly tells you that you’ve grown, and you smile shyly in response. You keep walking until you see the crumbling remains of an old door. You enter. You stop. You stare. 

 

There he is, quietly tending to the flowers, just like his father. Slowly, you approach Asriel, who turns and greets you with his mother’s smile.

 

“Don’t worry about me,” he’s been crying, you can tell, “Someone has to take care of these flowers. I can’t come back… I just can’t okay? I don’t… I don’t want to break their hearts all over again.”

 

He sniffles, turning his head to the side, sad smile still in place, “They already buried their children. They shouldn’t have to do it again.” 

 

He turns away from you then, kneeling in the dirt, seemingly intent on the flowers, expecting you to leave. But you don’t. He plays with one of the flowers, gently stroking a yellow petal. You sit cross-legged next to him and lean against his side. He stiffens, but he doesn’t move away, as he rolls the flower petal between his fingers, careful not to break or bruise it. He’s gentle. 

 

“Frisk,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on the flowers before him, “Why… did you climb Mt. Ebott?” 

 

It’s your turn to stiffen.

 

“Everyone knows the legend, right? ‘Travellers who climb Mt. Ebott are said to disappear.’ Frisk… why would you ever climb a mountain like that?” He ends on whisper. 

 

You don’t say anything, your hands fisting in the fabric of your pants. 

 

“Maybe… Maybe you’re more like Chara than I thought,” Asriel mutters after a long moment, “Chara… Chara didn’t have a happy reason to climb the mountain, either. And that… that made them hate humanity.” 

 

You nod. You think you might be the only person apart from Asriel who understands just how much Chara hates… hated. Hated humanity. 

 

“But you know, Frisk… you really are different from Chara. I don’t know why I ever acted like you were the same person. Maybe…

 

“Maybe the truth is Chara wasn’t really the greatest person.” 

 

You inhale sharply at that. You never thought emptiness could echo as loud as it does now. You shake your head in disagreement. 

 

“Frisk…?”

 

You wonder if promises to a twice dead child still count. You hesitate. One moment, two, three. Asriel, patient and kind, lets you gather your thoughts. No wonder Chara loved him. 

 

You decide that offering Asriel a few moments of comfort is better than an eternity thinking Chara a bad person. They weren’t perfect, you mumble, but they weren’t bad. They…

 

How do you explain the relationship between you and Chara, when you scarcely understand it, much less believe it, yourself? 

 

You settle on, “They saved me.”

 

Asriel tenses beside you. You wonder if he understands. Based on the quiet shaking, you think he does, at least a little. 

 

“Ah… that explains… why I…,” he sniffles, “They really… saved you? Are they… here now…?”

 

You barely murmur the no that escapes you, but Asriel’s ears are sharp. 

 

“Ahh… You know… Chara was the one who… who carried their own body to the… to the human village. They… they wanted to destroy… ev-everyone. It was me. Me who didn’t fight back. And now they… they saved you? That’s good. I wondered… if maybe they used me, but…”

 

You shake your head frantically, nearly dislodging yourself from Asriel’s shoulder. They loved you, you tell him, they loved you so much they just… lost themselves, along the way. They forgot who they really were. But they never stopped loving you. 

 

He nods, slowly, “So they’re really…  _ really _ gone now? Then I’m… I really am a-alone now?”

 

You grab the paw closest to you. You squeeze tight in silent company, telling him without words that you’re here. He squeezes back. For several long moments, you’re both silent. You pretend not to notice the quiet snuffling beside you and the intermediate tightening and loosening of the paw in your hand.

 

“I think… I think it’s gonna happen soon,” he says quietly, “Frisk… Be careful in the outside world okay? We both know… that it’s not as nice up there as it is down here. There’s a lot of Floweys out there. And not everything can be solved just by being nice.

 

“If you see me after I… don’t think of it as me, okay? Just… remember me like this. As someone who was your friend for a little while. And avoid Flowey, okay? I… I don’t want him to hurt any of you.”

 

He’s listing off requests quickly, not waiting for you to agree to any of them. He curls in on himself, speaking faster, his paw is tight in your hand.

 

“And, Frisk, please… Don’t kill and don’t be killed, okay? That’s… that’s enough, sometimes. 

 

“You should… go now, Frisk. I don’t have much longer.” 

 

You just squeeze his hand tighter. 

 

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Your friends are waiting for you, aren’t they?” 

 

You tell him you’re where you need to be. 

 

“Frisk, please… I don’t want your last memory of me to be like this. It’s better if you just remember how I am now.” 

 

You refuse. 

 

“Frisk…”

 

You kneel before his body, carelessly crushing the flowers that have unknowingly caused so much pain. You wrap your arms around him and hold as tightly as you can. He shivers in your hold before wrapping his arms around you. He lets out little bleating sobs. You just squeeze tighter in response. You hold onto him as he lets go of what he was holding on to— his bleats grow a little louder, his hold a little tighter, as his body begins to shift and change within your arms. You hold on until you’re grasping nothing but air, until the little Monster is gone, until its place is filled with a Monster of a different sort. Until it’s just you and Flowey. 

 

You think, maybe, he will attack you. Or maybe cry. You can’t tell from his expression as he looks up at you with wide, fearful eyes. In the end, he does neither of these things. Flowey sinks into the ground, running away. 

 

For a long moment, you kneel there in the dirt and flowers, lost and alone. Silent tears streaming down your face. Then, a bony hand touches your shoulder gently and you look up. Sans is above you, his one eye blazing blue as he scans the area for Flowey. 

 

“Come on, Kiddo, let’s head back.” 

 

You nod, standing on shaking knees that pop a little as you unbend them, brushing off flower petals and leaf stains and dirt. You walk with Sans, whose hand is now in yours, tense and ready to move quickly. Just in case. 

 

“So,” he begins, voice faux-casual, “Alphys explained some things about her experiments. Said she was coming clean about everything. Mentioned a Flower she injected with Determination.” 

 

He isn’t asking a question, but you nod anyway.

 

“That flower… the one that’s been causing so much trouble… that was Asriel, huh.” 

 

Again, it wasn’t a question. Again, you nod. 

 

“...Shit.” 

 

You nod again. 

 

He sighs, tightening his hand in yours, “You gotta tell ‘em, Frisk.”

 

You nod, explaining that you just want to find a way to do it without hurting them.

 

“That’s a nice thought, Kiddo, but… Asriel is— was their kid. ‘Sgonna hurt no matter what. But… You don’t have to do it alone. Me n’ Alphys can help explain.” 

 

Your smile is watery, but you are grateful. Not having to do things alone… what a novel idea. 

 

You blink, and you’re just outside the portal to what used to be the edge of the Barrier. You blink again, must have been one of Sans’ short cuts, you decide. Together, the two of you rejoin your friends. 

 

“Did you have a nice walk, Frisk?” asks Toriel, to which you nod automatically. It had been a good walk, despite the sad end. Toriel frowns slightly, staring at your face. You wonder if your eyes are puffy. Luckily, Papyrus chooses that moment to drape himself over you.

 

“Friend Frisk!” he exclaims, “Is it true that there is a pasta dish on the surface called Laz-age-na? Made of only the finest aged pasta and sauces?” 

 

He sounds excited by the prospect. With a grin, you nod. 

 

“Friend Frisk! You must show me this amazing dish!” 

 

“A-and anime! There must be so many different anime on the surface!” Alphys chimes in. 

 

“I can’t wait to meet your greatest warriors, like Dwayne “The Stone” Joeson and Jack Chan,” Undyne shouts, flexing her arms. Alphys swoons a little at the sight. 

 

Asgore and Toriel both look on with fondness at the motley assortment of Monsters. Sans slides next to Toriel, smiling happily at his brother, the back of his hand brushing up against Toriel’s. You catch his eye and waggle your eyebrows, staring pointedly at their hands, to which he averts his gaze with a nervous grin. Even so, he does not move his hand. As you watch your friends chatter excitedly about the future, you are happy for them, yet you feel a deep sense of dread. Your future… is a little uncertain now. You don’t know what will come next. 

 

Instead of dwelling on it, you muster up your excitement for your friends and allow yourself to be buoyed by their enthusiasm. You take Toriel’s other paw in yours (you try not to think how large it is, compared to Asriel’s) and begin to tug her to the exit, the others following behind. As you approach the doors that lead to the outside world, her grip falls limp. You walk several steps before turning around, staring at her curiously. The others form a semicircle behind her, all staring past you, staring at the door with varying levels of wariness. You tilt your head to the side, gazing at Toriel curiously. 

 

She smiles weakly.

 

“I apologize, Frisk, I am afraid…,” she trails off, staring at the physical divider between the Underground and the Aboveground. You understand better than they might think— you’re afraid, too, after all. Afraid of what this means, of what this will change, of what lies ahead, of your future. But your friends need you right now, so you push those feeling away.  _ Later _ , you think,  _ later _ . You smile instead, walking backwards slowly, one step after the other, eyes drifting from one pair of nervous eyes to the next, until your back is against the old crumbling doorway. Then, you raise your hand up, palm facing the ceiling, and you wiggle your fingers in a sort of ‘come here’ gesture. 

 

Papyrus, braver than most give him credit for, moves first. He grabs your outstretched palm in his gloved one, letting out a soft “Nyeh-heh-heh!” Not to be undone, Undyne quickly follows with Sans, who’s never far behind his brother. Undyne puts her hand on top of Papyrus’s, and Sans joins in as well, cracking a joke about getting “handsy” with everyone. Alphys musters up her courage and then trips over her own feet before standing at Undyne’s other side, clawed hand resting on top. Asgore follows, his hand doesn’t join yours, and he stands slightly apart from the cluster of friends that has formed around you. He seems uneasy about the whole thing, but he does wonder aloud what kind of tea they’ll have on the surface, to which Undyne replies by calling him a weenie.   
  


Gazing between your friends, you catch Toriel’s eyes and smile gently. Her eyes are slightly glazed over, but she smiles shakily back at you. She glides forward, standing at Sans’ other side, paw gently covering the rest. You beam at her, at all of them, proud of them without words. With your free hand, you reach back, grasping the door handle and pushing it outward. Soft, natural light pours over your friends, illuminating the awe on their faces, a mix of joy and despair. You tug your hand gently, taking a step backward into the light, then another and another. The doorway isn’t wide enough for you to walk out all at once, so they’re forced to let go, their hands dropping to their respective sides as, one by one, they match you step for step. 

 

With one last step backwards, your foot sinks into moist, Aboveworld dirt. Another step and another, and you are the little child leading the first band of Monsters out into the Aboveworld, light haloing around you and illuminating your friends’ squinting faces, as sunlight touches their bodies for the first time. Once more, they form a semicircle around you, staring with brand new eyes at the world around them. You feel heavy and light at the same time. 

 

“Look,” gasps Alphys, pointing behind you, “over there!” 

 

With a twist of your head, you see it. Just beginning to peek over the horizon, heralding the arrival of the Monsters, is the sun. It paints the purple and black and dark blue sky in hues of red and orange and yellow— the smaller, farther stars fading away in the face of one so close.

 

You’d seen so many sunsets in your life that you’d forgotten that the sun also rises. 

 

 

“They looked at one another, amazed. This thing they had never really believed in was coming true.”

  
Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck


	17. To Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the grand finale. As always, special thanks to kath-ren of tumblr for betaing for me!

The Barrier is broken, and you watch the sun rise, your hand held gently in Toriel’s. Everyone is buzzing with excitement. You can feel their magic humming happily along your skin. The last time you felt so at peace, you were standing at the precipice staring into the dark cavern below and willing it to swallow you whole. Now, you watch the sunrise. You’ve never seen a sunrise before, and you nearly never did. That, you think, would have been a true tragedy. You are silent as the others chatter excitedly, watching the sun yawn awake until it’s too bright to look at anymore. You close your eyes and allow the sunlight to caress your face like… like a mother should. Like Toriel. As though sensing the thought, Toriel squeezes your hand, and you open your eyes. You peer upwards at her curiously, a smile on your face. She kneels before you, her pristine royal garments growing wet and muddy at the knees in the good, damp earth. She looks happy but also full of regret. You reach out to touch the side of her face in a silent question.

 

“Frisk, my dear, how do you we get you home to your parents? They must be worried sick for you!” 

 

The sunlight turns to ice against your skin and your palms sweat. You’re caught somewhere between and inhale and an exhale— teetering on the precipice and staring down into the abyss. 

 

She continues, “You were so determined to leave the underground. Surely you must…”

 

Toriel trails off, or maybe you just can’t hear her over the blood pounding in your ears. The corners of your vision go white and then black. You think Toriel looks alarmed, but you aren’t truly registering anymore. Of course, she doesn’t want you. Of course, she would send you back. You’re not Asriel or Chara. You’re just Frisk, and no one wants you. 

 

Hands wrap around you, and you don't remember when or where you are anymore. You flinch away scrambling backwards, eyes rapidly darting from faces to hands. The only thing you latch onto are the raised voices and hands coming closer to you. You try to keep distance between them and you, scrambling backwards for every step taken forward. Step, step, shouting voices, and hands outstretching.  _ Please _ , you think or whisper or shout,  _ please don’t hurt me, please, I’ll be good, please…! _

 

Your next step hits air, your foot plunging into nothing, and the swooping familiarity of it snaps you into focus. Then you see it— hands outstretched to sooth and hold, faces twisted in fear for your safety, and there, behind them all, a flower watching from the cave, cast in shadow, grinning.

 

As abruptly as your fall begins is as abruptly as it ends. Your vision is tinted blue as your body floats in mid air. Sans, with his hand outstretched and left eye glowing, gently curls his hand inward and your body slowly returns to Earth, depositing you on your knees, closer to your friends than to the ledge. For a long moment there is stillness. Then, Sans’s eye loses its glow, and the unnatural stiffness in your body loosens. Like a ragdoll, you fall forward over your knees, forehead pressing into the dirt. You wrap you arms around yourself in an imitation of comfort, your body  shuddering. Someone’s hands touch you and you flinch, muscles coiled tight as tho you were any condition to run away. For a moment you’re left with the sound of crickets in the distance singing lonely songs, an owl hooting out a goodnight to its friends, and the sound of trees rustling, whispering the about the unraveling of the events they bare witness to. The hands come back and drag you upright, pulling you into a warm lap with arms wrapping around you— tight enough to hold, but loose enough not to bind. You shiver, twitching slightly at each slight movement around you. You think there might be talking, but you can’t tell over the rushing in your ears.  

 

A chilled hand touches your face, and you twitch. The hands persist, guiding your face. Your eyes roam past whoever is holding you, not focussing on anything. 

 

“Hey, hey, Kiddo come on lookit me, okay? Lookit me.”

 

You blink slowly, trying to force your eyes to meet theirs. A part of you recognizes Sans, but most of your mind is far away. Your eyes drift…

 

“No Kiddo, listen to me, okay? Wherever you are, you’re not there anymore.” 

 

You drag your eyes back, blinking slowly. 

 

“There you are. Just lookit me, okay? Listen to me, okay? Breathe in… Now out. There you go. See? You’re okay.” 

 

He guides you through some more breaths, gently talking you through each one. He holds your face between his hands, keeping your gaze focussed on his. Some time later, he lets out a shaky breath, eternal smile relaxing into something a little more natural. 

 

“There you are.”

 

You blink, confused. Had you gone somewhere? 

 

The arms around you squeeze your frame gently, bringing your back against a soft shuddering chest. You blink again, slowly. You feel heavy. You drag your gaze from Sans down to the arms around you— soft white fur and shimmering white sleeves. Toriel. You place one of your hands on  top of hers, and she briefly tightens her hold. You look up to the faces around you. Alphys and Undyne are holding each other tightly, great big tears coming down their faces. Papyrus hovers behind Sans on his knees, gloved hand grasping Sans’ shoulder tightly. Asgore stands off to the side by himself, his face is blank but his hands are clenched and shaking— his breathing, heavy. You look down again. Toriel’s arms are shaking. You rub your thumb over her paw offering comfort. Your hand is so small compared to hers. It’s odd to be offering comfort when not so long ago Toriel led you through the ruins, her large paw over your small hand, thumb brushing your hand the way you do now. To comfort is a thing that’s taught, not intrinsically known.

 

You don’t know what to say, but years of instinct bubble forth and speak for you, barely more than a breath, “Sorry…” 

 

From behind you, Toriel makes a low noise that you can only describe as despair. You don’t know what to do, so your gaze drifts to the side, not returning anyone’s stares. No one seems to know what to do or say. A crossroads or… or a ledge plunging into darkness appears, and the unknown spreads wide between you and them. 

 

The place where Chara used to be echos painfully. You feel so lonely in that moment. 

 

“F-frisk?” stutters Alphys, sniffling loudly. You meet her gaze briefly before looking away, “Frisk why...why did you climb Mt. Ebbot?” She wrings her hands together. A new kind of silence meets the question. You can feel everyone’s gaze focus sharply on you. Why does it seem like everyone’s asking you that lately?

 

How do you say it? How do you give voice to years of heartache and apathy culminating into you, Frisk, standing at the edge off the abyss and taking one last step? Where do you begin? The night it happened? The first time you were hit? Or that moment, so many years ago where you held the life of a butterfly in your hands and tore off its wings thinking, “this is me, this is me” over and over again, watching it struggle and flutter uselessly against the inevitable?

 

“Frisk…?”

 

You let out a breath. You think of Asriel, and his sad knowing smile. You think of Chara’s quiet resonance, a sibling soul to yours, a harmony. 

 

“Everyone knows the legend of Mt. Ebbot,” you echo, slowly, quietly. Your voice sounds as though it’s coming from far away, “Those who climb Mt. Ebbot they… they disappear.” You fall quiet as Toriel lets out a muffled sob. You don’t know what to do. What can you say to make this right? 

 

“I don’t… I don’t understand! Frisk! Why would you want to disappear?” Papyrus sounds heartbroken, and your chest clenches. 

 

“Pap…”

 

“No, Sans! Our friend is hurting! And...!” Papyrus break off, shaking his head.

 

You’re so tired in that moment. How do you even begin? You close your eyes. You don’t want to answer right away. You're not sure if you’ll ever be ready to answer. 

 

You open your mouth mouth to… lie? Explain? You’re not sure. Instead what comes out is, “Please don’t make me go back.” 

 

The tears come. Then big gasping sobs, as you shove your face into your hands, babbling.

 

“I know, I know th-that I’m not…!” gasp, sob, “A-A-Asriel o-or Chara but please…! I’ll be g-good so please! Please…!” 

 

“Oh, my darling child!” Toriel chokes out. You feel yourself being shifted, as she cradles you to her chest, rubbing your back in soothing circles and rocking back and forth. You can feel her tears drip onto the top of your head while you clench at her dress and sob. The mollifying motion of it, the utter unfamiliarity of such little comforts, it all only makes you sob harder. 

 

You feel the others coming forward, kneeling or sitting as close as possible. A layer of familiar magic settles over you, offering comfort like a well worn blanket. Then another layer of magic and another, until you’re practically aglow with your friends’ warm magic, cradled by it, protected by it. You are surrounded, both physically and with protective magic. They offer you comfort the way that one monster would another. Your sobbing slows down to soft hiccuping, as you tentatively reach out with your own soul, matching warmth for warmth. 

 

“My darling child,” murmurs Toriel, voice thick with tears, “of course you can stay. You need not be anyone but yourself.” 

 

You nod, snuffling loudly. You bury yourself further into Toriel with a new batch of sobs breaking through— happy, joyous, relieved.

 

Once, a long time ago, you ripped the wings the wings off a butterfly and thought, “This is me.” That had been your choice, though. The fate of that butterfly was your choice, just as the choice to never do it again had been yours to make. Just as your parents chose to hurt you. And Toriel and Papyrus and Sans and Undyne and Alphys and Asgore and all the rest chose to love you, and you to love them in return. Because Flowey chose hate, and Asriel chose love. Because love and hate, hurt and comfort, those are all choices people make.

 

There, surrounded by monsters and magic and love, you find peace. 

 

You think of love and it fills you with DETERMINATION.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Try to understand men, if you understand each other you will be kind to each other. Knowing a man well never leads to hate and nearly always leads to love."

John Steinbeck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, all of you, for your comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscribes! It's been a wild ride from start to finish and I'm happy to have made it with all of you! If you enjoyed this fic please leave a comment telling me what you think about it- I always love to hear about what people like or don't like about my writing so that I can improve for the future! 
> 
> To pre-empt any questions about a sequel...well, that's up in the air at the moment. I really like where this ends but I do have some ideas for the future of Frisk and their new found family. But don't expect anything before this Summer at the earliest.
> 
> Some concluding thoughts before we end here:
> 
> I wrote this story for me. I, too, was an abused child and eventually I too managed to escape that life. For a long time I was stuck in the dark, dealing with my own inner demons wiht no one to reach out to. I didn't realize at the time that there where people there waiting for me to reach out to them until it was nearly too late. When I imagine Frisk I see myself and when I imagine the Monsters I see my new family. Writing this was an exercise in catharsis. 
> 
> Please, if any of you are in a position where you are being hurt by those who are supposed to love you, reach out. You're not alone. There are plenty of resources available to you. 
> 
> these are all online sources available to you  
> thehotline.org  
> rainn.org  
> childhelp.org 
> 
> These are lists of hotline numbers, both within the US outside of it  
> purposefullyscarred.com/contacts/  
> ec.europa.eu/digital-single-market/en/116-helplines
> 
> Please reach out to someone: you're not alone.


End file.
